


Shelter

by SunAndMoonFanfictions



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Drama & Romance, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Opposites Attract, Organized Crime, Slow Burn, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 68,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunAndMoonFanfictions/pseuds/SunAndMoonFanfictions
Summary: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, a yakuza tasked with unearthing blackmail on one of the wealthiest business families in Japan, finds his loyalties to the syndicate divided when he develops complicated feelings for Ulquiorra, heir to the business.Ulquiorra Cifer has a secret that could cripple his family’s reputation and endanger his future: he’s attracted to men. He’s had his life decided for him and never questioned it, until he meets Grimmjow. But with his marriage to a wealthy actress on the horizon, his chance at happiness may be out of reach.Can these lost souls find shelter with one another, or will their obligations to family tear them apart?
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Kurosaki Ichigo, Ulquiorra Cifer/Grimmjow Jaegerjaques
Comments: 21
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The time has come again for another GrimmUlqui fanfic, induced from my COVID-19 quarantine in NYC! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!
> 
> This fanfic is inspired by a GU fanfic I never finished many, many years ago. So, needing some distraction during this Coronavirus madness, I took the idea for the story out of the grave and revived it with a better story.
> 
> Of course, being an AU, I will attempt to keep the essence of Grimmjow and Ulquiorra's characters while giving them my own twist. Think of Grimmjow and Ulquiorra, but if they were plopped into a romantic dramedy. And that's what you can expect. At the time of publishing this, I am about 80% done with the whole story so this WILL be finished and not abandoned. Expect updates once every week.
> 
> I hope someone gets some enjoyment out of this. I know I've had a blast revisiting our favorite Espada duo. If you like this pairing, I have a GU FIFA World Cup AU on my profile page called The Beautiful Game.

"It was nice meeting you, Jaegerjaquez-san."

Grimmjow doubted it. He'd only been in the interview for ten minutes. The others before him had been interviewed for fifteen minutes or longer.

He only managed a grunt and a nod as she clasped his hand. She pulled away quickly, as if she'd dipped her hand into something foul and cold.

"We'll be in touch."

The same response, every time. He knew by now what that meant. Thanks, but no thanks. You're not wanted here. The frustration surged, and desperation left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I'll pick up a shift if someone can't come in, doesn't matter what it is. I'll wash dishes, clean—"

She smiled and he could tell his words had gone right through her. "Thank you for your enthusiasm, Jaegerjaquez-san."

Did he have to beg? They wanted employees, and he was willing to work. What more could they want?

"Jaegerjaquez-san, we have others waiting. We will be in touch."

Wordlessly, he lurched from the seat, feeling cold to the tips of his toes. He grabbed his coat and stepped out into the rain. It was the worst kind of rainy day: windy, where every gust pierced through the holes in his coat and lashed at his goose-pimpled flesh like an icy whip. He burrowed clammy hands in his pockets and scowled when his hand dangled through the hole in his pocket.

A line of people hid beneath their umbrellas, checking the resumes in their bags. Each one immaculately dressed, whether they were in jeans and dress shirts or sporting ties or freshly-ironed skirts.

Gnashing his teeth, he bowed his head and shuffled through the streets, shivering each time frigid rain water flooded into his shoes. He'd found them on the streets, abandoned outside a nightclub in the early hours of the morning. They were a size too big, and they weren't water proof, but they were a step above the plastic bags he'd tied around his feet after his sneakers fell apart.

Shades of indigo and light blue tugged his gaze to a window display. Mannequins showed off the finest suits and dress shirts Grimmjow could never afford. His own reflection seemed to mock him, his entire existence a stark contrast to the elegant display. Faded jeans with holes in the knee, a plain white tee with a hole in the collar. At least he'd washed them. With what little money he had dwindling, the least he could do was wash his ratty clothes.

If he could at least get a job before the money ran out, he wouldn't have to worry about when he could no longer afford to keep his clothes clean.

Once he got a job—but who was he kidding? It didn't matter how many times he washed his clothes, or how many time he scrubbed himself clean. His clothes hung off his frame, his coat practically swallowed him. From his jutting cheekbones to his wild black hair, he looked like a dead man walking.

No one would give him a chance. They took one look at him and could either tell he was homeless, or assumed he was a desperate drug addict trying to afford his next fix. Never mind that he hadn't touched drugs in all his life, or how hard he worked to present himself in a different light. He would always be nothing more than a stray cat to be pitied and avoided.

Tired blue eyes gazed up at the suits. People always took for granted just how important a good first impression truly was, from the way one dressed to how they conducted themselves. Even something as simple as a change of clothes could turn his luck around, but the cost to rent a suit was too high, not if he wanted to keep a roof over his head.

Shivering, he descended into the metro. He approached the gate and tapped his card but the gates wouldn't budge. He groaned. His card was out of money. He flipped open his wallet and found it empty. He ran his finger along the inside of his shoe and his stomach dropped. He kept money in his shoe in case of emergencies, but the seams had split in his shoe. He'd just lost his ride to the hotel.

He looked both ways and found the station empty. Cameras observed him through a single black eye from above. He jumped the turnstile and jogged toward the stairwell. He shivered in his damp clothes as he waited until distant footfalls caught his attention. Two patrol officers descended the steps, coming straight for him.

"Hey, kid! Wait!"

The wind whipped his hair back as a train hurtled into the station. Grimmjow lurched to his feet and bolted for the train as the doors flew open. The officers thundered after him. Grimmjow squeezed through the doors and a hand clawed at his jacket just as the doors closed. The platform became a blur and disappeared behind him.

Blinking water out of his eyes and shivering in his soaked clothes, Grimmjow could hardly wait to hit the showers when he arrived at the hotel. The lobby air conditioning tore a shudder from him as he sped past the front desk.

"Jaegerjaquez!"

He grimaced at the sound of Kukaku's brash voice. She sprawled in a revolving chair behind the desk, glaring at him beneath her spiky black bangs.

"You told my staff you'd have the money last week. It's Monday."

Gnashing his jaw, Grimmjow dragged his feet back to the desk. "Yeah, well I thought I'd have a job by now. I need more time."

Kukaku stuck her pipe between her teeth. "It's been months, kid. I've been reasonable, I have, but I have a business to run. We agreed on the reduced rate so long as you could pay it, and so far you haven't delivered."

His fingers curled, stomach roiling nauseously. "Give me a week. I'm looking around everywhere, someone's gotta hire me eventually."

"I've given you months, Jaegerjaquez. I have customers who can pay lining up to take your place."

Jaw tight, Grimmjow couldn't speak.

"I need you out, Jaegerjaquez. Tonight."

"You want me to pay? Get me a job. I'll work for you if I fucking have to!"

"And I've told you all my positions are filled. I'm done talking about this."

Anger left him speechless.

Kukaku sprinkled tobacco in her pipe. "You must have someone you can turn to, Jaegerjaquez."

He'd be damned before he went to his aunt for help. Not after what she'd done. He'd entrusted her with his secret, and she'd ruined everything.

"You want me out, I'm fucking gone." He found his locker and gathered what little toiletries he had, slamming the door. He jumped the stairs and shouldered past people to his room.

His capsule room was at the end of a long hallway, filled with other capsule rooms stacked one on top of the other. He slapped his card against the touch screen and wrenched the sliding door open when the lock clicked. He boosted himself inside the room.

The room was cheaper despite that it boasted more arm-width than other capsule hotels. He hit his head on the ceiling as he knelt.

 _It's good I'm leaving_ , he thought, checking for any items he might have left. _Like hell I could stand one more night in this cramped shithole. The streets will be better than this!_

But it was warm, and despite that he was a six-foot monstrosity, this little room had more than enough legroom. The hotel was clean, the staff was friendly, greeting him by name. The past three months here had begun to feel like a second home. Kukaku was a decent sort. She'd given him more chances than he deserved.

_If she really care, she'd have helped me. I don't need her. I don't need anyone._

He retrieved a handful of bills he kept in his pillowcase. He'd been saving what little he had to pay off Kukaku. Now, he would need it to survive.

He returned to the lobby. The sickly sweet stench of tobacco made him cough. Kukaku observed him behind the desk, pipe tucked behind her ear. "Kid, whatever your aunt did ain't worth punishing yourself. If you have family, go to them. Swallow that stubborn pride of yours and ask for help."

Grimmjow swallowed the growl in his throat. "Sure." He grunted, not meaning a word. He couldn't say why, but he didn't want her to worry.

"Good luck, kid."

 _Like you care,_ he thought, stepping out into the rain.

* * *

Grimmjow sought shelter from the rain beneath a bus stop, huddling with his knees to his chest on the bench while rain came down in torrents around him.

"Help me!"

Grimmjow's heart gave a lurch. He sat up, straining to see through the gale. Most sensible people were in their homes at this time of night. For a moment, he believed he'd been hearing things. He laid his head back down.

"Help me!" It was a woman, shouting and crying.

Grimmjow threw himself to his feet. Water splashed around his feet as he followed the sound toward an alley between a restaurant and an apartment. His stomach churned.

_What the hell do I care? What am I doing? Just take a look and call the cops._

Holding his breath, he peered around the corner. His heart fell into his stomach as he peered into the darkness. A woman huddled between two dumpsters, her back to the wall. A hood concealed her face, her bony shoulders rattled with sobs. Pale hands crawled up into her hood, clutching her face.

"Help me! Please! Someone!" She sobbed.

She sounded convincing enough, but something raised the hairs on Grimmjow's neck.

"Hey," his voice cracked when he'd meant to sound as casual and assertive as possible.

She turned toward him with a gasp. The whites of her eyes winked at him beneath her soaked hood, dangling over her face.

"Thank God! I need help. I was robbed. Do you have a phone, I need to call the police!"

Grimmjow tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. He knew how it felt to be desperate, alone and petrified with fright, but something was wrong.

"Ask inside the restaurant. Someone's gotta have something."

"No, no I can't be around people right now. Not after what happened. Please, help me." She motioned him closer and yet she refused to come to him. It was then Grimmjow realized the dumpsters beside her were big enough to conceal people from sight.

He backpedaled and stumbled into something large and solid. The concrete tore at his knees as he fell, one arm behind his back. Pain lashed into his scalp as a hand fisted his hair, rainwater seeped into his mouth as he cheek collided with the cold hard ground.

Meaty hands clambered around his coat, turning out the pockets. His heart roared in his ears as he struggled.

"Got something!" A fist clenched around the money in his pocket. Desperation spurred Grimmjow to struggle harder, kicking until he heard a breathless grunt above him. He rolled out from beneath his attacker and propelled himself to his feet. His attacker made up for his height in sheer muscle mass, a surgeon mask concealed the lower half of his face and two beady eyes blazed at him. Behind him, two men brandished pipes as they marched out from behind the dumpsters.

The woman tossed back her head and laughed. "You're smart, kid, but not smart enough. Get him!"

The three men charged, pipes gleaming in the light of the streetlamp beyond the alley. Running wasn't an option. His pride wouldn't allow it after how far he'd fallen. If this was how he died, then he was going down fighting.

A pipe whooshed past his ear. Grimmjow stumbled out of reach and when the brute swung again, Grimmjow threw himself at him. His fist sunk into the brute's gut and he grunted, seething tobacco-scented breath in Grimmjow's ear. Grimmjow's knee plowed into the brute's soft gut, bowling him over. Grimmjow ripped the pipe from his meaty fist. It trembled in his hand as the two other guys circled him.

"I'll kill you!" Grimmjow roared, voice shrill and trembling. "You come any closer, I'll kill you!"

The men laughed and ran at him. Grimmjow swung without a care to who or what he hit. An explosion of pain wracked his shoulder. He staggered into the cold brick wall and threw himself out of the path of a pipe as it cracked against the stonework. Every gasp like a knife in his ribs, he caught one of the thugs in the shoulder with his pipe. A howl of pain split the night as Grimmjow's pipe collided into the thug's head with a thick crack.

The pipe slipped from his grasp, hurtling across the alley and clattering against the wall. Grimmjow lunged for it and the wind went out of him as his back struck the wall. The woman swooped over him, face split in two by a cruel smile. A cold, thin blade pressed against his throat.

So, this was how his miserable life ended: killed on a dark rainy night in an alley.

"Let him go." A deep commanding voice made Grimmjow's breath catch.

A tall and slender man with a long, narrow face and icy grey eyes stood at the entrance to the alley. A long braid of black hair fluttered in the wind.

"Get out of here, old man!" The woman snapped.

A pistol gleamed as the older man whipped it from the inner lining of his jacket. All the color left the woman's face.

The older man cocked the pistol. Tattoos painted the back of his hand, down to each slender digit. "Be sensible. There's been enough blood spilled tonight. Now, put your weapons down and run."

The woman's switchblade clattered as she turned tail. Her companion dropped his pipe and ran away, screaming.

All the air came rushing back to Grimmjow as his knees buckled. He collapsed, his back to the wall, sucking in one lungful of col night air after the next.

"Hooligans," the older man sniffed, stuffing the pistol back into the inner lining of his jacket. He nudged one of the unconscious "hooligans" with the pointed toe of his boots. He offered Grimmjow a smile and a polite bow of his head. "Is this your doing?"

Grimmjow nodded, swallowing hard. "They deserved it. They were gonna kill me."

"I understand. Are you hurt?" He extended a tattooed hand.

Grimmjow stood on his own. "Fine."

"You're skin and bones. The Chinese restaurant next door is quite good, and there's space at our table for one more."

"What's the big idea, huh? You want something from me? You saved my hide and now I owe you? You're wrong!"

The older man huffed laughter and produced a pipe, lighting it. "I can see when a young man is down on his luck. If you'd like to join us, we're at a table in the back."

"Forget it." Grimmjow's stomach roared to contradict him. Heat rushed to his face.

"Very well. If you change your mind, however—"

"I can't pay anyway," Grimmjow grumbled, the shame made it hard to meet the older man's gaze.

Pearly smoke wafted from the older man's mouth. "That's not a problem."

The offer was too good to be true, and that didn't sit well with Grimmjow. When he looked up, the old man had extinguished his pipe. He turned and strode toward the restaurant. "If you change your mind, we'll be inside."

For a moment, Grimmjow hesitated outside the restaurant. Distant chatter and the scent of roasting duck, boiling noodles, and exotic spices wafted through the door. His stomach howled, and Grimmjow couldn't resist its call. He found the older man at a table in the back with several others; a scrawny little man with hair the color of straw and big buck teeth; a tall blond with a loose, flowy shirt and snug jeans. They all had tattoos.

_Am I seriously eating Chinese food with a bunch of yakuza?_

"Thank you for joining us, take a seat." The older man had another chair brought to the head of the table. Grimmjow sat, eyes sweeping among the group of strangers. "The dumplings are their specialty," he said as Grimmjow peered down at a menu.

"My name is Shawlong Quofang. That is D-Roy," he motioned to the straw-haired man with the buck teeth.

"Yo!"

"Elforte,"

The blond man tossed a lock of golden hair. "A pleasure."

Grimmjow introduced himself just as the waiter swept over to take his order. He ordered the chicken lo mein and drank half his water to avoid talking.

"Poor dear, you're practically half-starved," Elforte crooned. Slender fingertips caressed Grimmjow's chin. "Here, you can have some of my food."

Grimmjow lurched to the very back of his seat. "I'm fine!"

"For fuck's shake, Elforte, shtop trying to fuck every guy you see!" D-Roy rolled his eyes. His buck teeth gave his words a snake-like lisp.

"D-Roy, settle down. Anger isn't good for the stomach." Shawlong lifted a steaming stone mug of tea to his lips. Grimmjow eyed the tattoos on his fingers but said nothing.

The food arrived and Grimmjow dug into a bowl of spicy noodles. Shawlong had barely finished telling them how he'd met Grimmjow by the time Grimmjow set the bowl down, short of breath from how quickly he'd eaten.

"Like a starving cat. Cute, too," Elforte sighed.

Grimmjow said, "Are you guys all yakuza?"

"We are." Shawlong sipped his tea. "As is the owner of this establishment."

Grimmjow flicked a noodle with his chopsticks, unsure what to make of that revelation. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. This is the territory of the Gilga-gumi. We watch the streets for hooligans like the ones that attacked you. They're bad for business."

Grimmjow thought back to the fear in the woman's face. He'd fought back, but even then he'd needed someone to come to his aid. What he wouldn't give to inspire fear with a flash of a pistol, to be a man no one could mess with. He pushed the empty plate aside.

"Thanks for the food." He stood.

"Wait," Shawlong's deep voice halted him. "This rain will last well into the morning. There's plenty of room at my apartment for one more if you'd like to wait out the rain for the night."

Grimmjow liked the idea, but Shawlong's kindness rubbed him the wrong way. "I don't want pity. I'll sleep on a bench or something."

"I'm not offering pity, just a warm bed for the night. Surely that's better than catching your death of cold."

Grimmjow couldn't recall the last time he'd slept in a real bed and not in a capsule room. "Fine."

Shawlong called a car to drive them to the busy epicenter of Karakura Town. Skyscrapers spiraled into the fog and advertisements flashed, streaking the rain-washed streets with color. The doorman rushed to get the door for them as Shawlong ushered Grimmjow inside a pristine lobby with polished marble floors.

They took the elevator up to the penthouse. In the entry hall were doorways leading to three bedrooms. Grimmjow's jaw hit the floor when he followed the hallway to the living room. A panoramic view of downtown Karakura, visible through floor-to-ceiling windows, spanned the open living room and kitchen, all the way through to the study just off the eight-seater dining room. A spiral stair ascended up to a rooftop deck, but it was raining too hard to go outside and appreciate the view.

Grimmjow couldn't fathom what one man needed so much excessive room for, but he would kill for a place like this. "Nice," he summarized, ogling the view and trying to see if he could spot the Chinese restaurant from here.

"Pick whichever room you like."

Grimmjow grunted, speechless.

_This guy . . . what's his motive? Is he seriously just doing this outta the goodness of his heart? Is he a pervert? Was my food drugged, is he gonna sell me into fuckin' sexual slavery or something while I sleep?_

"Would you like anything to drink?"

_Hell no, perv._

Shawlong poured himself a glass of sake and sprawled on the sofa. He turned on the television. The picture quality made Grimmjow feel fake by comparison.

_Does this guy trust me not to rob him blind in the night? Pretty stupid if you ask me._

"How old are you? Where are your parents? Shawlong asked, a slender fingertip circling the rim of the glass.

"Fifteen." Grimmjow shrugged. "And hell if I care."

Shawlong's brow creased. "Are you in school?"

"I was."

"Have you been on the streets for long?"

"A month, maybe. My folks kicked me out. Been staying in capsule hotels, mostly. Couldn't get a job, so I can't afford a room anymore. I'm not going to some shelter. I tried it once, and that was enough."

Shawlong hummed, regarding Grimmjow in a way that made his skin hot and prickly.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"How?"

"Stop feeling sorry for me. Everyone does! And if they don't feel sorry for me, then they treat me like I'm—" His throat closed up. Dirt, less then dirt. Like he wasn't a person, just homeless trash cluttering up the sidewalk; a lazy nobody whose problems would all be solved if he could just get a job. As if he'd somehow deserved to be lying freezing and hungry in the dark. No one looked at him and saw his potential, just a dirty stray cat.

"How would you like to join my organization?"

Grimmjow's eyes opened. The living room had become a blur through the sudden eruption of his emotions. Shawlong knelt to meet his gaze. There was no pity there, no disgust or contempt. In his moment, Grimmjow realized he was seen for exactly who he was, and this revelation robbed him of his breath.

"You're strong. You have a fire burning in your heart. My boss could use someone like you. Being in the yakuza is dirty work, and it's dangerous, but it pays well. You strike me as a man with nothing to lose, who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. I believe you could truly make something of yourself, Grimmjow."

He thought back to Shawlong, standing tall and powerful, pistol gleaming red in the neon lights. The terror he commanded had left his attackers' faces stark-white.

Grimmjow swallowed, every hair on his body standing straight on end.

"Yeah."

This was his chance. He could either be a lowly stray cat, begging for scraps from a world that didn't care, or he could be a panther and command the respect and fear of the masses.

"I'll do it."

Shawlong's hand fell, warm and strong on his shoulder. "I'll speak to my boss. For now, this place is your home. Have a good night, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow walked to the window, looking past his reflection to the city far below.

They would all see; his parents, Kukaku, every single would-be employer who'd ever turned him away and left him out in the cold.

He would rise to the top, claw his way with tooth and nail if he had to.

Tonight, the world was in the palm of his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is healthy and that this story is a good distraction for you. Writing this has been therapeutic for me. I hope this is the same for you.

_Ten years later_

The elevator ascended. Grimmjow watched the floors fly past, excitement thrumming in his stomach. After months, they'd acquired enough stocks to be invited to the Nakamura Enterprises annual general meeting.

Beside him, D-Roy clapped his hands together. "Oh, I love this part!" He clumsily tied a neon green and yellow tie around his neck. He'd cut his wiry straw hair into a bowl cut just for the occasion.

Grimmjow unbuttoned his zebra-patterned dinner jacket, revealing a muscled bare chest and stomach. Tattoos of koi fish swam in dark ocean waves across his chest, and a dragon spiraled from his chest to his stomach, spewing flames. He tugged at the bright red tie, not liking the way it itched.

"It's a pity Shawlong couldn't join us," Elforte sighed. He'd worn heels just for the occasion which clashed with his business suit. "He never likes to have any fun at these meetings."

"He's too prim an' proper to be caught dead in thish getup!" D-Roy chuckled.

These jobs weren't Grimmjow's favorite. Though they paid well and the horrified expressions of the company management was to die for, there wasn't much excitement involved. As per usual, their job was to silence shareholders at the meeting, keep them from asking any embarrassing or inappropriate questions that might bring any shame to the company.

Their employer had instructed them to do whatever they wished: embarrass them, intimidate them, beat them up. Grimmjow intended to do a little of everything. Any excuse to piss off rich, entitled snobs was fine by him.

"Likin' the hair, Grimmjow-shama," D-Roy cackled laughter, twirling a strand of Grimmjow's bright blue hair. "You dye it for the meeting?"

Grimmjow smacked his hand away. "Pay attention, you lot. We're here." He said, pushing some sunglasses into place on the bridge of his nose.

The elevator dinged. Grimmjow pulled the megaphone from his brief case and tossed it from one hand to the other as they marched to the meeting room. Through a glass wall, the stockholders gathered around a long mahogany table. Grimmjow slammed his foot into the glass door, throwing it open.

" _BANZAI!"_

The shareholders jumped out of their seats while others toppled from chairs in their surprise. D-Roy launched himself onto the table, screaming, "Praise his Imperial Majesty! Long live the Emperor!" He kicked folders off the table, scattering papers into the air.

Grimmjow threw a round-house kick into one of the stockholders, knocking him and his chair over. Raising the megaphone to his lips, he hollered, "Oi, oi! You lot heard the story about the emperor with no clothes? Well, turns out emperors aren't the only ones who get down and dirty." He whipped a photograph from the inner pocket of his jacket.

The stockholder's face turned white. "He's lying! He's lying! I don't know who that woman is, I am happily married!"

Several smashed chairs later, Grimmjow strutted out of the meeting with his pocket full of bribe money, and left the stockholders bowing to one another in shame.

"Did you see their faces?!" D-Roy squealed with laughter in the backseat as they drove. "Praise his Imperial Majesty! I almost peed!"

Grimmjow cracked a grin. Making smug assholes squirm never got old. "I think one of them actually did piss himself." He tossed D-Roy and Elforte their share of the cash.

Elforte tugged off his heels. "Now we just have to survive D-Roy's horrendous haircut."

Grimmjow dropped them off and stopped the car outside a bathhouse. The receptionist gave him a bow and led him down the hall to a changing room. Grimmjow stripped and found a locker, securing a towel around his waist as he stepped out into the courtyard.

Steam thickened the air, and droplets formed on his skin as he sought out a particularly crowded bath. Lounging in the steaming water were tattooed men, each built like a sumo wrestler. They drank sake at the water's edge.

At the center of the group, was a lanky man, taller than all the rest, with hair the color of tar that flowed down to his bony, tattooed shoulders. He wore an eyepatch and a shit-eating grin as he slapped the behind of the server who'd brought them another bottle of sake. She scurried away, head bowed and face red.

"Check out the ass on her!" Nnoitra Gilga's single eye followed her hips as she departed. "Wish I could say the same about you, Jaegerjaquez." He curled his lip as Grimmjow dropped his towel. "Like the hair."

Grimmjow tossed Nnoitra his cut from the job this morning and slunk into the warm water. He rolled his shoulders appreciatively as the heat dissolved the aches in his muscles.

Nnoitra counted the money. "Not bad. You're raking in the money, Jaegerjaquez. I think that sexy serving girl wanted my dick, but you deserve a bonus. Wanna share her with me?" His smile was so slimy, Grimmjow half expected to see a leech where his tongue—tattooed with the number five—should be.

Grimmjow's stomach churned. "I'm good."

Nnoitra looked at his boys incredulously. They scoffed.

Irritation made his fingers curl, but Grimmjow ran wet hands through his blue locks and ignored them.

"The hell's wrong with you, Jaegerjaquez? Huh? I offer you women all the time."

Yammy, an enormous man with dark skin, a square jaw and thick lips boomed laughter. "Nnoitra-sama, maybe girls aren't his thing, if you know what I mean." He waggled the caterpillars he called eyebrows.

"I think we all know what you mean," said Nnoitra's second-in-command, Tesla, as he joined them in the bathroom, already looking tired of this topic of conversation.

Nnoitra howled laughter. He stood up, water rippling around his narrow hips. "You like ass, Jaegerjaquez?" He turned, revealing the praying mantis that dominated his backside, pincers poised for Grimmjow's throat. He bent over and waggled his scrawny ass.

Laughter erupted from the men in the bath. Grimmjow looked away in disgust and took in a deep breath through his nose. His legs twitched. The silhouettes of his parents loomed in his mind, their voices raised in disgust and anger. He recalled the tears, burning hot as they ran down his face, cold dread forming a lump in his stomach.

He wanted to run, like a frightened boy. He held his ground.

_Let them think what they damn well want._

"And if I was?" Grimmjow opened his arms wide as if in invitation. A grin cracked his face in two. "Let's be honest, I'd get more ass than any of you ugly motherfuckers combined."

The men guffawed. Nnoitra sank back into the water and downed his sake, his cheeks rosy-red. Grimmjow could sense he hadn't been taken seriously, and the relief he felt drove a pang of frustration and shame into him.

Grimmjow's grin fell away, his arms trembled as he lowered them to the edge of the bath. Sweat mingled with the steam dampening his brow.

At twenty-five years old, he was a member of the biggest yakuza organization in Karakura Town, yet the option of living an out and proud lifestyle wasn't a possibility. The stigmas attached to homosexuality would only weaken his reputation—but that didn't mean he would take any insults.

Gradually, the bath emptied. Grimmjow drank to avoid talking to Nnoitra and as his vision began to swim, he realized that not even sake could make Nnoitra more appealing. Eager to be done with the formalities of drinking with his boss, Grimmjow reached for his towel.

"Jaegerjaquez!" Nnoitra slumped in the bath, his chin inches from the water's surface. "Come and see me— _hic_ -tomorrow! I got another _sokaiya_ job you'd be good—hic—for. But," he leaned over and gave Grimmjow a lungful of bitter sake breath. "It's gonna be different this time, ya feel? No " _banzai_!" or "Praise his Imperial Cocksucker" BS."

"Sure, got it, Nnoitra."

"Nnoitra- _sama_ ," Tesla corrected, shooting Grimmjow a look that made him itch to plant his fist in his nose.

"Meet me tomorrow at—at noon." Nnoitra swallowed a belch. "Then we'll talk. This job is big, Jaegerjaquez. Bigger than anything you've ever done— _hic!_ So don't disappoint me."

Water cascaded down Grimmjow's body as he secured a towel around his waist.

 _I couldn't give a shit if you're disappointed, fuckin' alcoholic slime ball,_ he longed to say.

"Sure thing."

* * *

Swirling neon lights blinded Grimmjow, and the bass pulsed like a heartbeat under his feet. Men swarmed the dance floor, sweat sparkled on their bare chests as they swayed, hypnotized by the DJ's beats.

Grimmjow feasted his eyes on them, dancing skin to skin, locked at the lips. The sexual energy went straight to his cock, tightening the front of his pants. He'd never appreciated Karakura's gay scene more than he did tonight after biting his tongue during the onsen visit. He couldn't stomach the shame, the lying, the hiding.

Tonight, he was free.

He shed his tee shirt and donned his leather jacket. Armed with a shot of Hibiki, he prowled the dance floor. He breathed in the aroma of sweat and aftershave, afloat in a sea of writhing, sculpted bodies. He downed the shot and savored the rush, hungry eyes roaming from one Adonis to the other—and wandered into a pair of emerald eyes.

He leaned on the bar as if he owned it, observing the dance floor with wide-eyed curiosity. Observing Grimmjow. It was impossible not to notice him. In a sea of bare skin and leather, dark jeans hugged slender hips, an ironed button up begged to be loosened, and his glass-green tie set Grimmjow's imagination running. Oh, he could show Mr. Business Man the time of his life . . .

As soon as blue met piercing shades of green, the raven-haired man turned away, but there was no mistaking the color rising in those pale cheeks. He'd seen something he liked, and so had Grimmjow.

From his heart shaped face, framed by ebony locks, to the chiseled angular lines of his jaw and high cheekbones, and those piercing green eyes, he was gorgeous and cold all at once. A sculpture carved from ice, just waiting for the right touch to melt that cold exterior. Grimmjow was dying to know what hidden passions dwelled beneath the ice.

" _Still waters run deep." Isn't that right? Let's how just how deep they really run, pretty boy . . ._

* * *

Ulquiorra Cifer squeezed the aluminum car key in his pocket.

"Buy you a drink, handsome?" A muscled hunk squeezed into the vacant bar stool.

Ulquiorra looked away. "No, thank you." He was only the fifth man to ask in the last five minutes. All they'd done was offer to buy him drinks, yet even that made him want to disappear into his jacket.

Meaty fingers danced across his shoulder. "C'mon, just one drink!"

Ulquiorra couldn't suppress his flinch. The man's hand lotion smelled like mosquito repellent. He bucked his shoulder. "No."

_Why did I think a crowded nightclub was something I would enjoy?_

At twenty-nine years of age, he ought to be ready for his first night with a man. After years of repressing and denying, he couldn't take it anymore. If he was destined to be shipped off into an arranged marriage with the girl of his father's choosing, the least he could do was allow himself one night as his authentic self.

But he'd overestimated just how far he was willing to go. The bass vibrated in his throat and seemed to quake the building itself, making his ears feel as if they'd been stuffed full of cotton. He found himself choking on potent aftershaves.

This should be a repressed gay man's wet dream, instead all he wanted to do was run.

He didn't know whether to be disappointed or relived as he lurched to his feet.

"Hey, c'mon, let me loosen that tie for you." A meaty hand settled on his back, trailing lower, squeezing.

His heart propelled itself into his throat. "Don't touch me." He lashed out, smacking away the unwanted touch. As the man's face darkened with anger, it was then Ulquiorra remembered that he was a measly five-foot six-and-a-half inches to this brute's six-foot stature. Ulquiorra's workout routine consisted of an hour and a half on the treadmill; he wanted to guess this brute ate five-dozen eggs each morning, and lifted houses for a living.

"Little fuckin' prude. Why'd you come in here if you don't want it, huh?" In his anger, he seemed to swell to twice his height. "You're coming with me before I force you, and trust me, that ain't something you want to happen."

Ulquiorra balled his fist, steeling himself the very opposite of all physical encounters he'd anticipated tonight.

A tanned hand fisted the brute's thick shoulder. "He said hands off, shitstain."

The brute relinquished Ulquiorra's jacket and whirled around. "The hell—"

Ulquiorra's breath hitched at the sight of electric blue eyes and a chiseled scowling face. A mane of unruly blue hair tumbled down to broad shoulders, though a few rebellious strands dangled over his forehead. Red lights streaked his leather jacket, open to reveal rippling abs and the tattoos that painted his skin. Ulquiorra had always thought of tattoos as dirty, but they gave his rough-and-tumble rescuer an exotic flare.

Ulquiorra swallowed and his mouth ran dry. From the moment he'd glimpsed him on the dance floor, Ulquiorra had been captivated by him. Everything about him commanded attention, from his blue hair and piercing eyes, to the way he prowled, shoulders rippling, like a creature on the hunt; cool, composed, as if he owned the room and everyone in it.

Their eyes had met and for a moment, Ulquiorra felt as if he existed. But who was he kidding? Men like this blue-haired hunk could have anyone he wanted, and he'd undoubtedly be drawn to the bare-chested go-go boys rather than buttoned-down businessmen.

Being wrong had never been so gratifying.

"What are you, some white knight? Piss off." The brute slammed a meaty hand into the blue-haired man's chest. He hardly moved an inch.

Pointed teeth gleamed as a grin spread slowly across his face. "All right," he pushed up the sleeves of his leather jacket, revealing more tattoos on the backs of his hands. "You wanna fight, let's go!"

The brute's face turned white. "Now wait a second! I thought they didn't allow you people in places like this!" He backpedaled, hands raised and trembling. "I didn't know he was your boyfriend, I swear, honest!"

Tattooed fingers snared the seat of the brute's pants. He squeaked in pain as the blue-haired man wrenched him close. "By the count of three, you better walk your bubble-butt out that door. Or your ass is gonna be outta commission for a week."

The brute squinted. "Like, in a good way or—" He flew backwards.

"Run!" A terrifying grin tore his face in two. With a yelp, the brute ran from the club. The blue-haired man's grin faded into a surly expression that seemed commonplace. He dropped into a bar stool and pushed an empty glass toward the bartender who refilled it for him.

"Outta your element, ain't'cha?" His baritone voice rumbled. Full, pouting lips quirked into an easy-going smile and made Ulquiorra warm around the collar.

Ulquiorra was quiet. It couldn't be more obvious he didn't belong here, but he still wouldn't admit how overwhelmed he was. "You aren't, clearly."

"Good drinks, good company—minus that asshole. What's not to like?"

Ulquiorra hovered by the bar while his rescuer down a shot. He fingered the car key in his pocket. It was getting late, and tonight was a disaster. He should really leave—

"The whiskey's good. Want one?"

"I should probably go. This is all a bit . . ."

"Much? Yeah, I get that. I was lookin' to get outta here too, in a bit. Maybe after one more song."

As he spoke, the song changed and cheers erupted from the dance floor. Blue eyes sparkled under the neon lights, and they lit up when he met Ulquiorra's gaze. "You dance?"

Ulquiorra swallowed, eyeing the crowded dance floor with rising unease. "No. Not usually." But he wanted to.

"I could show you. I'm a hell of a good teacher, and I won't get too hands-on, 'less you want me to."

Ulquiorra swallowed, admiring the tattoos on the back of his large, tanned hands. It scared him to admit, but there wasn't a thing he wouldn't let this man do.

"Tonight _is_ an unusual night." Ulquiorra shed his jacket, hoping the other man didn't notice the tremor in his hands. "I'm a quick learner. Show me."

A grin curled full lips, electric blue eyes sparkled. "Let's dance, pretty boy."

**(Oh don't you dare look back  
Just keep your eyes on me  
I said you're holding back  
She said shut up and dance with me  
This woman is my destiny  
She said oh oh oh  
Shut up and dance with me)**

Heat ran up the back of his neck. "Just Ulquiorra is fine."

"Ulquiorra . . ." His name rumbled on the breath of a smooth baritone. A shiver raced down Ulquiorra's spine. "Just Grimmjow is fine." A smirk tugged his lips, and he extended a hand.

Ulquiorra's fingertips caressed the calloused palm of his hand.

_Am I crazy? I'll make a fool of my—_

The thought left his head in a gasp as he was swept close to a hard body. The warmth of bare skin seeped through his shirt, and Ulquiorra had never detested clothes more. Bodies flush together, Ulquiorra held his breath as tattooed fingers toyed with his buttons, popping a few at the collar bone.

"Breathe," Grimmjow's voice thrummed in his ear. "Follow my lead."

**(She took my arm  
I don't know how it happened  
We took the floor and she said)**

Strong arms looped around Ulquiorra's shoulders. Ulquiorra breathed out and surrendered his control, letting Grimmjow sway him to the music. Hands clasped his hips, stealing Ulquiorra's breath as his pelvis shifted, grinding against Grimmjow's hips.

Ulquiorra's hands twitched, itching to explore every hard muscle, but they remained locked in place at his side. Grimmjow clasped his hand. Ulquiorra hadn't realized how cold and clammy his hands were until Grimmjow warmed them with his touch. He brought Ulquiorra's hand to his shoulder, and wound the other around his waist.

Warm breath blazed against his lips as Grimmjow chuckled. "Someone's tense."

His hands reacted before he could stop them, winding around broad shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about," Ulquiorra huffed.

"Now we're talkin'." The wolfish smile on his face kick-started Ulquiorra's heart. He spun out at arm's length and Ulquiorra stumbled back into his arms, Grimmjow's rock-hard chest against his back. Ulquiorra rocked his hips back against his crotch and knew he'd done something right when Grimmjow uttered a growl of approval.

**(Oh don't you dare look back  
Just keep your eyes on me  
I said you're holding back  
She said shut up and dance with me)**

Inquisitive lips blazed a scorching trail up his neck to sip at the shell of his ear. All the blood in Ulquiorra's body traveled south. Large, painted hands ascended from his hips to his stomach to his chest. Ulquiorra's heart pounded to escape his chest. It occurred to him that Grimmjow could likely feel its frantic pulse, as if he held his heart in the palm of his hand.

Grimmjow rolled his hips against Ulquiorra's buttocks, and there could be no mistaking his desire. Grimmjow spun him around they found themselves nose to nose. The electricity had fled those blue eyes. They were dark, like the flares of blue in a roaring fire.

"Let's get outta here." His breath warmed Ulquiorra's lips, urging him closer.

This was it; the moment he'd been waiting for, and yet his stomach was in knots.

"It's up to you. What do you want?"

_"What do I want?"_

The question resonated within him. When was the last time anyone had asked him what he wanted?

"Need convincing?" A finger tilted his chin, the scent of whiskey was ripe on Grimmjow's breath as he came closer, until Ulquiorra could almost taste him. His fingers curled in Grimmjow's hair, thinking rationally was near impossible over the blood rushing from his brain to his cock.

He didn't want to be rational. What he wanted was big and blue, wild and unpredictable. He stepped out of Grimmjow's arms. "Follow me. My car's right outside." He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and slipped his hands into his pockets.

Blue eyes burned against the back of his neck, he could almost see the smile curling full lips, those sharp teeth gleaming. "Right behind you."

**(Oh, oh, shut up and dance with me  
WALKTHEMOON - "SHUT UP AND DANCE WITH ME")**


	3. Chapter 3

Grimmjow gawked as they stepped out into the mild March night. Waiting to take them away was a Karakura F-170, one of the most expensive cars in the world. Sleek and glossy and practically smelling of two-point-eight-million dollars, the car's gullwing doors glided open and revealed a sexy leather interior. Ulquiorra returned the key, an aluminum model of the car itself, back into his pocket.

Grimmjow didn't even want to touch it. He thought he would dirty it. Gaping, he looked from Ulquiorra to the car. "Do you own that nightclub? Or all the nightclubs in Karakura?" He couldn't fathom why else a millionaire would be hanging out in such a dingy establishment.

"Not at all. My father is the founder of an automobile manufacturing company."

_Your father is what?!_

Grimmjow's jaw dropped. Ulquiorra might have just admitted his father was the founder of boxed macaroni and cheese rather than the creator of one of the most expensive automobiles in the world.

Come in," Ulquiorra stepped aside to allow him in.

Grimmjow was frozen. "You know, we're just going to some cheap hotel downtown, right? I ain't got the money to blow on some big fancy night out."

Ulquiorra rolled his shoulders. "That's fine. Are you getting in?"

Grimmjow approached, lowering himself into the seat. All the breath left his body. He didn't feel like he was in a car. He was sitting on money, power, and status. Feeling dizzy, he leaned back and gave a start as he collapsed back against the seats, which reclined further back than he was used to. He caressed the leather, soft as butter under his fingers. Everything from the materials to the stitch work on the seats was top-quality. This was truly a vehicle from the future.

"Where are we going?" Ulquiorra readied his GPS.

Grimmjow fumbled out the address. Ulquiorra grasped the wheel and the engine purred to life. The city sped by them in a blur of color. Grimmjow couldn't take his eyes off Ulquiorra as he commanded the wheel. The awkward and uncertain man from the bar was gone. He looked damn powerful grasping the leather grips of the wheel: sexy, confidant. Grimmjow swallowed, more turned on than he cared to admit.

The engine's rumble died to a seductive growl as they parked. Grimmjow's heart jumped into his throat. He peered out the window. They'd arrived. With a click of a button, the doors swept upwards and Grimmjow stumbled out. Heads turned, hushed excited voices tickled his ears. A smirk tugged his lips as he felt the eyes of the crowd on him.

Before he could consider asking if he might barrow this car, Ulquiorra stepped out and followed him to the doorway. A rainbow flag waved in the doorway of the love motel. Behind him, Ulquiorra stopped and stared, peering up at the neon heart sign, flashing pink. He looked small and uncertain now, like a breeze might carry him away. Just like that, they were out of Ulquiorra's comfort zone and back into Grimmjow's. Grimmjow chuckled.

The blonde at the receptionist desk yawned, her face in her phone. Her face brightened, cherry lips quirking into a smile. "Jaegerjaquez-san, good evening."

"Yo, got my room?"

"Been saving it just for you, big guy." She jumped up and tossed him the key.

Grimmjow turned and found Ulquiorra looking at the pictures displaying romantic scenes from famous Japanese movies. "You comin'?" he asked.

_Oh, you'll come all right._

"Y-Yes." Back unnaturally straight, Ulquiorra followed him into the elevator and stood at the other side. Like a statue, he stared straight ahead, unblinking. Grimmjow reached out and lifted his tie, wrapping it around his finger.

"Someone needs a massage."

Ulquiorra seemed to deflate, clearing his throat as color sprung to his cheeks. "It's been a long day."

Oh, how he loved being the one to bring some color into those pallid cheeks "Yeah? Better help you unwind, then."

The elevator dinged and Ulquiorra trailed behind him as Grimmjow sought out their room. Grimmjow swiped his key card and held the door for Ulquiorra. "After you."

Ulquiorra hesitated at the threshold. His Adam's apple rose and fell as he swallowed. Grimmjow flicked the light switch for him as he entered. A plush king-sized bed awaited them, each sheet begging to be ruffled. Windows afforded them a decent view of the street below, skyscraper windows lighting up the night like stars. A widescreen TV reflected the bed.

"You come here a lot." Ulquiorra stated. With such a monotone voice, Grimmjow couldn't tell if Ulquiorra was insulting his sex-positive lifestyle or merely trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, that a problem?"

Ulquiorra gave a little shake of the head, gliding to the window.

"Hot? Cold?" Grimmjow asked, fingers brushing the air conditioning switches on the headboard.

Ulquiorra remained by the door and Grimmjow worried he might flee at any second. "Either is fine." A slender finger tugged at his tie. A current of desire rippled down Grimmjow's spine. He flipped on the heat and discarded his jacket on an armchair. Ulquiorra approached an armchair, peering into a gift basket. His eyes widened.

Grimmjow smiled. "Anything in there you like?"

"I can't say I've used any of these."

"Seriously? You don't allow yourself a little fun even by yourself?"

"Or with anyone." It was a confession. Ulquiorra kept his eyes averted to the window.

"So, this is your first time." Something fluttered in the pit of Grimmjow's stomach.

"It that really such a surprise?"

Grimmjow's lips quirked, watching as Ulquiorra's shoulders stiffened and pink dusted his ears.

"If this is going to be a problem, then maybe I should just—"

"Shut up and sit down." Grimmjow patted the edge of the bed.

Ulquiorra's chest swelled with the slow intake of breath. His dress shirt hugged the outline of his chest. While slender and small, he was well-defined. Damn, Grimmjow had always been a sucker for lean, muscular men.

The mattress creaked as Ulquiorra sat beside him, hands clasped in his lap. "I haven't been in the position to—do this before."

Grimmjow hummed his understanding. His hand inched across the mattress, stopping short of Ulquiorra's thigh. He didn't want to scare him off. "What's been stopping you?"

"Work, mostly. My family, as well. They have expectations of me."

"C'mon, there must have been offers. You were pretty popular at the bar."

A little hum rumbled from Ulquiorra's throat. It was musical, close to a laugh. "That was surprising."

"What, that you're handsome as hell? That ain't a surprise to me." He bumped his shoulder into Ulquiorra's.

Wide emerald eyes met Grimmjow's gaze. "I wasn't sure what to expect, that's all." His breath warmed Grimmjow's lips, minty and clean. The scent of his aftershave, dark wood and spice, compelled Grimmjow closer.

"Start gettin' used to it, Ulquiorra." His hand settled on Ulquiorra's warm thigh. Ulquiorra's breath hitched. Grimmjow ached to close the distance but he held back.

They were close enough for Grimmjow to count the flecks of gold in those emerald eyes. His lashes were long and thick, fluttering closed as Grimmjow leaned closer. His fingers ran the length of Ulquiorra's tie and gave a tug, urging him near. Ulquiorra didn't resist the motion, leaning into Grimmjow's body with a sigh that sent all the blood rushing to his cock. He'd never felt such a rush, like the hunter who had his prey in the palm of his hands.

Grimmjow could almost taste his lips, could just imagine how soft and plump they'd feel between his teeth.

"Perhaps you can help me." Ulquiorra's low voice made Grimmjow shiver. "Get used to it, I mean."

With a snort, Grimmjow pushed Ulquiorra down to the mattress and draped himself across his chest. Ulquiorra's chest rose and fell against Grimmjow's, his tongue darted out and wet a supple lower lip.

"Stop talking." Nose to nose, every short puff of air blazed against Grimmjow's lips. What he wouldn't give to devour those lips. He wanted Ulquiorra to realize just what he'd been missing. He lowered his face to Ulquiorra's neck, parting his lips against soft, warm, and milky skin.

A quiet gasp made him bare his teeth in a smile. Fingers curled against his shoulders. Ulquiorra's pulse raced beneath his lips, fluttering ever faster as Grimmjow's fingers sought the warmth of his skin, delving beneath his shirt.

His lips traced the firm line of Ulquiorra's jaw. Grimmjow closed his eyes and let his instincts take over, charting a course across his jawline until every short breath warmed his mouth. Fingers fisted in his hair, tugging urgently until their lips finally—

A shrill ringtone erupted through the room. Grimmjow jolted, nearly tumbling off Ulquiorra.

_Seriously? He didn't silence his phone!_

Ulquiorra's eyes went wide. "Sorry, ignore that." He captured Grimmjow's chin between his fingers. Grimmjow's heart thundered, stomach spinning over at the sight of his face, eyes dark with lust, cheeks flushed, plump lips parted, waiting and eager for Grimmjow's.

"Good thing you're fuckin' hot." He leaned down and—

The phone rang again. Grimmjow gnashed his jaw.

Ulquiorra lurched out from under him and fell out of bed. He latched onto the end table and rummage around in his briefcase. His brow furrowed, lips tugged down in a grimace. "Excuse me. I have to take this."

"Seriously?" Grimmjow scoffed, dropping his face onto the mattress. "Fine, knock yourself out." He kicked off his shoes and sprawled on the bed, hand straying to the zipper of his jeans. "I'll just get ready for you."

Ulquiorra's eyes strayed from his phone, follow the zipper's move. Grimmjow raised his hips, tugging the jeans down far enough to expose the waistband of his briefs. "Don't take long."

"R-right." Ulquiorra yanked his gaze away and went into the bathroom.

Grimmjow dropped his head against the pillow. His cock strained against his jeans, twitching impatiently.

He had confidence the wait would be worth it.

About a minute later, Ulquiorra's low muffled voice faded to silence and the bathroom door opened. Ulquiorra gave a jolt at the sight of Grimmjow lying shirtless on the bed. Grimmjow's lips quirked. He arched his hips invitingly.

"I—I have to go." Ulquiorra stated.

"You . . . huh?"

"Something's come up. I'm needed at home."

Grimmjow swung his feet over the end of the bed, feet slapping the carpet as he came to a stop before Ulquiorra. "You chickening out on me?"

"No. It's a long, very dull, story. But I can't stay." Ulquiorra's eyes strayed, wandering the expanse of Grimmjow's bare skin, igniting every pore. Ulquiorra caught himself and looked up into Grimmjow's face. "Perhaps we can do this some other time." He weaseled around Grimmjow and grabbed his brief case.

Grimmjow remained where he was, not sure if he should feel insulted or annoyed.

_Am I being cock-blocked by a phone?_

"Hey," He didn't have Ulquiorra's number. How would they meet again?

"Sorry about this." Head bowed, Ulquiorra darted to the door, his jacket and briefcase under his arm.

"Ulquiorra—"

The door slammed. Grimmjow scratched his head in utter bewilderment. Laughter heaved his shoulders and he dropped onto the mattress, raking his hands through his hair.

_I just got cock-blocked by a phone. Un-fucking-believable._

* * *

Ulquiorra slumped, his back against the door as the breath came rushing back to him. Sweat dampened his brow, and the front of his pants was unbearably tight. Those electric blue eyes wouldn't leave his mind. His skin tingled where Grimmjow had kissed him, his warmth still lingered everywhere he'd touched and left the rest of his body cold in comparison.

He was wanted. For the first time in his life, he was desired; not as the heir to his father's business, not for his money, but as a man. He'd been touched and kissed by a man straight out of his wildest fantasies—and he'd ruined it.

His jaw tightened. "Shit." His chin fell to his chest and he closed his eyes tightly, itching to throw open the door and run back into that room and find Grimmjow, waiting and naked for him. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

**Have you left yet? She won't be here for much longer.**

Tonight had been a fantasy, but reality awaited him. He'd been a fool to think he could run from his fate forever.

Once downstairs, he jumped into his car and drove. He didn't allow himself to look back at the hotel.

 _I could call him, tell him I'll return shortly No, no. I didn't give him my number. I told him we could do this again and yet I didn't exchange numbers with him . . ._ He fought the urge to hit his head on the wheel. He'd never been good at communicating with others, and now he was paying the price with his virginity.

_Is there a chance he'll wait for me? If I come home, resolve the matter quickly—but why should he wait?_

He had to face the truth; his short-lived sexual escapade was over and done with, and he and Grimmjow would never see each other again. His one night to finally own his sexuality was far beyond his reach now. He had to accept that and move on instead of entertaining fantasies.

He left the city behind in a half hour, maneuvering the twists and turns of steep hills. A gate barred his path but with a glance at the security guard, the gate swung open for him. Gated villas breezed by the window until finally he arrived at the end of a long stretch of road. Beyond stone walls crawling with ivy was his family villa, surrounded by vast acres of natural Japanese wilderness. A fountain gurgled and gushed towers of water into the air as he walked the path to the front door.

"Welcome home, sir!" The doorman gasped as he was swept aside. In the doorway stood a short young woman with blond hair tied back into pigtails. Her face reddened with rage at the sight of him, and she chucked a bloated laundry bag down the stairs at him. "Ulquiorra, you son of a bitch!"

Ulquiorra side-stepped the bag as it spilled open, cascading his freshly laundered clothes across the ground.

"Hiyori, what seems to be—"

"It's been months! Months! And you've given me nothing! No engagement, no ring! You float around the house with your thumbs up your ass and ignore me, your future wife!" She roared, spit flying from her snarling mouth.

"I apologize. I told you, I've been busy."

"Yet you can't take five minutes to buy me a damn ring, drop to one knee and pop the damn question already? Fuck you, Cifer!" She hurtled down the stairs and stormed to the driveway as the gates flew open and a red Cadillac drove in. Hiyori's parents waved out the window at her.

The front doors swung open. "Hiyori-san," Aizen Sousuke, Ulquiorra's adoptive father, watched her from the doorway. "On behalf of my son, I deeply apologize. I promise to stay on top of him. You will have the finest ring, custom made to your liking, and an engagement from my son by the end of this week."

Hiyori barked laughter. "I could make a ring and propose to myself in that amount of time. But guess what, I don't have to, 'cause I've got men lining up to take your sorry place, Cifer!"

Aizen clasped Ulquiorra's shoulder. "Talk to her," he whispered. "Get her to stay!"

Ulquiorra couldn't speak, or rather, he wouldn't. He was thrilled to see the backside of Hiyori.

"In the words of our lord and savior Beyoncé, "If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it." See ya, Cifer!" Hiyori flipped him the bird and leaped into her family car. Beyoncé's _All The Single Ladies_ blared throughout the courtyard as they drove away.

Ulquiorra couldn't be happier to see the backside of that woman.

Aizen sighed, sweeping stray locks of brown hair from his forehead. "You couldn't at least try to make her happy?"

"Breaking off the engagement seemed to appease her." Ulquiorra ascended the stairs and entered the foyer of the villa, removing his shoes. the tatami mats were springy beneath his feet.

"I admit, she wasn't my first choice. But you have an obligation to this family, and to yourself. You're twenty-nine years old: the time has come to start taking some responsibility for your future."

"I know, Father." Ulquiorra barely suppressed a sigh, stomach tightening with a sudden rush of anxiety.

"Ulquiorra, look at me," his father's cool, commanding voice halted Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra turned to find the warm brown of his father's eyes cold and dark. "My son, we are one of the largest manufacturers in Japan. If you wish to be a part of this business, then you must understand that we have a reputation to uphold."

The shame made it hard to hold his father's gaze. At the age of eighteen, Aizen Sousuke had inherited the company when his father passed away, and dedicated his life to seeing the business thrive and grow. He was married to his work and so he adopted a son to raise in his image and uphold the family tradition of business. While he had never been a hands-on parent and left the caretaking to a barrage of nannies, he'd ensured Ulquiorra graduated com-laude at a prestigious college for business.

Yet this was how Ulquiorra repaid the years of work, by being dismissive and resistant toward his father's wishes. His father could have left him in foster care, but he'd entrusted him with the future of his company and given him a privilege life many could only dream of.

Ulquiorra bowed. "I'm sorry, Father. I'll do better." Ulquiorra felt as if he were observing their conversation from outside himself and all the while, the man he'd awakened while he lay beneath Grimmjow slipped farther and farther away, back into the grave where it belonged.

"Good," Aizen sniffed. "Marry well. You don't have to like the girl so long as it's a beneficial union. You can talk about how much you'd like to run the business, but until you can back up your words with actions and start taking your future seriously, how am I supposed to trust your commitment to my life's work?"

Ulquiorra tilted his head, letting his father's words wash over him. Images of Grimmjow danced around his mind. There was no room in his life for fantasies. He'd grown up in this business, it was all he knew. He couldn't afford to squander it, and all because he couldn't keep his deviant urges under control.

Something opened in his chest like a drain, sapping away any remnants of exhilaration Grimmjow had inspired within him.

He had to be the perfect son and marry some rich, miserable girl so they could be miserable together. Then when his father retired, he would take over the company and bind himself to his family for the rest of his life. When that was done, he thought with a shudder, he would spawn equally miserable children who'd make the same mistakes he did and choose wealth and the satisfaction of others over their own happiness.

From the moment he was born, it was decided who he would be and what he would do. This was his role, and there was no room for improvisation. A gay son was not part of the family's grand plan for him.

"I happen to know more girls, of suitable status and perhaps less . . . willful than Hiyori. I will keep searching, and you will do your part and give them a chance." Aizen ascended the stairs to his room.

Ulquiorra stayed quiet, resigned to his fate. What he wanted didn't matter. And unless he did what was expected, then he didn't matter, either. This was for the best. From a material prospect, he had everything he could ever want. If his heart was empty, that only meant he had nothing and therefore nothing to lose.

If that wasn't happiness, then it would have to do.

* * *

The following week, Ulquiorra accompanied his father around the factory, reviewing the latest addition to their automobile family, the Karakura Raptor. After that, they sat in a board meeting for over an hour, discussing elements of the design and where it could be improved.

Though his father put pressure on him every day about his responsibilities, Ulquiorra would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy participating in the creation of a luxury product up until the very moment it was released into the world. The business gave his life a sense of purpose, at least until he left the factory.

Once they were done at the factory, they began the drive home. Aizen said, eyes fixed on the road, "You remember when I told you Renaldo quit?"

Ulquiorra nodded. Renaldo was the family cook. He'd been in their service since long before Ulquiorra entered the picture, but his declining health had forced him into hospice care.

"Well, we've hired some new staff, and a chef to take his place."

Ulquiorra hummed. Those were deep shoes to fill.

"We'll just have to see about the quality of his cooking. I swear, if he can't even make caviar properly, he'll be out within an hour. Renaldo's caviar was to die for."

Ulquiorra looked out the window at the gray clouds that choked the horizon. A sliver of pure blue stubbornly seeped through the fog. He thought back to soft blue locks between his fingers, sapphire eyes gazing at him as if he were all that mattered.

_But I wasn't all that mattered. He likely found someone else to take my place right after I left. There's no point in preoccupying my thoughts with him when he's already forgotten me by now. It's time to move forward._

Once they were home, Aizen and Ulquiorra waited in the living room to welcome the new staff members. The chef was a portly man with a jovial smile and decades of experience working in some of the most renowned restaurants in the city. "I assure you, my caviar is excellent!"

Next, they greeted some new housekeepers and awaited the arrival of new kitchen staff members.

"Your name?" Aizen made a steeple with his fingertips as he observed a tall, lanky man with bright pink hair and golden eyes.

"Szayel Aporro Grantz. Delighted to meet you! Thank you so much for this incredible opportunity."

"I like your gloves," Aizen noted. Szayel wore white gloves despite the mild weather. "Aren't your hands rather warm?"

"No, not at all. I'm something of a germaphobe, you see." Szayel tossed a lock of pink hair from his face.

From outside, there came a distant rumble, growing into a roar. Ulquiorra parted the curtains and watched as a motorbike swerved into the courtyard. The driver wore a leather jacket, and a helmet concealed their face. Ulquiorra didn't recognize the motorcycle as one of their making. His father specialized in sportbike designs, while this motorcycle was a cruiser. While certainly of a cheaper make, there was a rugged charm and sleek appeal to the bike's design.

He snorted to himself as he caught sight of the brand. The bike's manufacturer was a direct competitor to his father's company. He could only imagine the disapproval on Aizen's face when he realized one of his new staff supported a rival brand.

In the hall, he heard the doormen greet the newcomer. Boots clumped across the tatami mats toward the door. The knob rattled.

"Welcome," his father greeted. "And you are?" There was something in his father's voice that hinted at amusement, as if he were laughing internally at their new employee.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

Ulquiorra turned and saw sky blue. Leather boots left a trail of dirt across the floor. Tight denim jeans teased the contours of a muscular lower body. A baggy tank top proudly displayed the tattoos on his powerful chest. Everything about him made a blatant statement; he wouldn't be buttoned-down and subservient, even if he did work for the Sousuke family.

"Welcome, Grimmjow." The cold smile on Aizen's face spelled his intentions. This was his house and he would have obedience from his staff. Ulquiorra swallowed down his discomfort but he had the feeling that if his father wanted to train Grimmjow into submission, he would have one hell of a time. "This is my son, Ulquiorra Cifer."

He motioned toward the window where Ulquiorra stood, frozen. Without saying a word, Grimmjow faced him, shock written all over his face. Ulquiorra's heart thundered, all the air lodged in his throat as he was swept into wide sapphire eyes.

Like a hurricane on the horizon ready to tear his world asunder, Ulquiorra had the feeling that nothing in the Sousuke household would ever be the same again.


	4. Chapter 4

_A week prior . . ._

The church bell tolled, rain spattered the black umbrellas of the crowd, gathered before an open grave. Carried within an oak casket was the body of Baraggan, first lieutenant to Nnoitra Gilga. Tanned, gnarled hands folded over his chest, long white mustache glistening with rainfall. He could have been sleeping.

"Pitiful," Nnoitra clicked his tongue. "Can you imagine? Surviving gang wars, assassination attempts, police raids and pursuits—and he drops dead trimming his fuckin' hedges."

"Yeah, heart attacks are a real bitch," Grimmjow murmured. Shawlong elbowed him, head bowed respectfully as the coffin lowered into the earth.

During the service, the members of Nnoitra's gang mingled. Grimmjow poured himself a shot of sake and said, "To you, you old fuck." He downed it. He hadn't known Baraggan from the next man, but any excuse to drink sake was welcome.

"Drinking in his memory? Let me join you," Shawlong said, filling a glass for himself. They clinked their shot glasses together and drank. Grimmjow's eyes wandered to Nnoitra, drinking with his men. It didn't look like he was in any hurry to discuss the job he'd brought up.

"It's been a week since Baraggan's passing. I hear Nnoitra-sama still hasn't found someone to take his place as second lieutenant." Shawlong frowned. "He needs to hurry. Nnoitra isn't the most focused of leaders, and volatile at the worst. Baraggan helped keep him in check. Let's just hope—"

Grimmjow yawned enormously.

"Are you well?" Shawlong asked.

Grimmjow scrubbed at his face. "Stayed out late last night."

"At a bar?" Grimmjow didn't have to look at him to see the disapproval on his face.

"Yeah, a bar, and I didn't drink too much, Mother Hen."

"Did you meet anyone?"

Grimmjow recalled emerald eyes, the feeling of slender fingers in his hair, the scent of his cologne. "Some guy."

"And?"

Grimmjow quirked a brow. "What?"

"Did you like one another?"

He snorted. "Waiting for me to meet Mr. Right? That ain't for me."

But he'd liked Ulquiorra, more than most guys he took to his bed. He'd been taken by surprise by the adventurous nature hiding behind his stoic mask. Ulquiorra wasn't anything like he'd expected, and he'd been pleasantly surprised—at least until he fled. Unbelievable. Grimmjow wound up staying in the hotel room alone, bucking into his hand for most of the night.

He'd never had someone run out on him in the middle of sex. His balls were still blue, and worst of all, he had no way of getting in touch with Ulquiorra.

_Not like I need him. I could have anyone I want. It doesn't have to be him._

But Grimmjow would be lying if he didn't want to be the one to make Ulquiorra's toes curl. The things he'd have done to him . . .

"Still thinking about him?" Shawlong's thin lips lifted in a smile.

"What? The hell I am." Grimmjow poured himself some more sake.

"Thinkin' about who?" D-Roy sauntered over.

"No one," Grimmjow snapped.

"I believe Grimmjow's finally fallen in love."

"What?! No way, congrats, Grimmjow-shama!" D-Roy clapped him on the back and made Grimmjow spit out his sake. "Who's the unfortunate guy?"

Grimmjow sputtered, wiping his mouth. "You guys . . . It was nothing! We didn't even do anything."

"What? You spent the night and didn't even bang? Sounds like love to me. Did you stay up all night talking, looking into each other's eye?" D-Roy batted his thin eyelashes.

"Cheers!" Shawlong raised his glass and he and D-Roy drank.

Grimmjow fought the urge to smash his shot glass over D-Roy's stupid head.

"But really, Grimmjow. You're twenty-five. It's about time." Shawlong refilled his glass. "Baraggan never found love. He spent most of his life married to a life of crime. With all due respect, the man was as miserable as they come. Money is well and good, but it can't buy happiness."

"Only rich assholes who've never been hungry and cold on the streets can say something like that. It's not love, Shawlong. I didn't even get the guy's number. We're not seeing each other again." He'd tried to keep his tone casual, but somehow bitterness had seeped in. What did he have to be bitter for? If he wanted someone to warm his bed, all he had to do was take a quick walk to the nearest bar.

Shawlong's brow furrowed. "I see. This life of ours is a lonely existence, Grimmjow." Grimmjow bit back a sigh. Shawlong looked across the room at Tesla, holding his five-year old son in one arm while his wife wiped the child's nose with a tissue. "From the moment you join, you renounce all loyalties to family, to love. You can try to balance both, but in the end, loyalty to the _oyabun_ will always come first. We owe our _oyabun_ everything, after all. He gave us a place to belong, a way to survive. It's not a bond many can understand."

"What about you, Shawlong? Ever been shot with cupid's arrow?" Grimmjow sensed he was speaking from experience.

"Once, and only once. We were to marry. She wanted me to renounce Nnoitra-sama and run away with her. I couldn't. We've come to rely on each other. He's had my back when I felt all the world was against me. He's not perfect, but I owe him much. She couldn't understand, and I felt that leaving with her would endanger us both. So we called off the wedding."

Grimmjow downed his shot and his fingers and toes began to tingle. "Saved yourself a lotta trouble."

"Perhaps. But it doesn't have to be this way for you. You're young, you have your life ahead of you. You've sworn to serve this organization, but you feel no loyalty to Nnoitra. You're not bound to him as I am."

Grimmjow snorted. "So find the right guy and run off with him? Why would I do something stupid like that?"

"All I am saying is don't make the same mistakes I did. Don't die old and alone." Shawlong downed his shot with a bitter twist of his lips.

Grimmjow just couldn't see it. He couldn't see himself holding a kid in one arm with a spouse on the other. The thought almost made him laugh. He certainly couldn't see himself falling in love with someone, let alone imagine that the feeling would ever be mutual. Love was for the soft and the gentle, and he was neither of those things.

"Maybe those were mistakes to you. To me, dying alone ain't so bad. Better than tying myself down."

Shawlong set aside his glass, gazing at Grimmjow in a way that made his skin prickle.

"What?" Grimmjow snapped.

"So, what will you do when someone tells you they like you?"

Grimmjow choked on his sake and coughed. "Tell them they're fucking crazy!" He sputtered. "Look, stop with the life advice. I don't need love. What I need is to focus on making a name for myself in this organization. Baraggan died alone, sure, but he died rich and he left behind a legacy of crime, the whole city knew who he was and feared him even in his old age. That ain't such a bad way to go." His hand fell heavy on Shawlong's shoulder as he stood, tipsy and ready to go home and sleep. "That's gonna be me, Shawlong. Mark my words."

* * *

The following day, Grimmjow took the elevator up to Nnoitra's penthouse. They were finally ready to discuss the job. Grimmjow had tried to pin Nnoitra down before he left the funeral, but Nnoitra had been drunk.

Waiting just inside was a towering mass of muscle, tattooed and armed with a pistol at his hip. "He's in the living room," the bodyguard grunted.

Grimmjow meandered down the hall, sneakers squeaking on zebrawood floors. The walls were vacant, Nnoitra didn't have much appreciation for fine art. Hip-hop music blared throughout the house from the speaker system. Grimmjow turned the corner into the living room and nearly ran into a woman. She gave a squeak and shuffled past, her heels clacking.

Nnoitra sauntered around the living room in a bathrobe, murmuring along to the vulgar hip-hop lyrics. Lipstick stains spattered his neck.

 _It's a cruel fucking world when Nnoitra will get laid and not me,_ Grimmjow thought, pissed enough to plant a kick in Nnoitra's ass just to vent at the unfairness of it all.

"Oh, Jaegerjaquez, you're here. Sit down, or don't, whatever suits you." Nnoitra kicked the fridge shut and carried a can of beer to the counter where he sat. The can opened with a fizz and Nnoitra took a couple greedy gulps. Grimmjow gnashed his jaw, supposing Nnoitra would tell him when he damn well was ready to. Not like Grimmjow had gone out of his way to get here or anything.

"So, what's this job you mentioned?"

Nnoitra raked a hand through long, greasy strands of hair. "Fuckin' what?"

Grimmjow snorted. "Been hitting the booze a little too hard."

"Shoulda been here last night. We all partied in Baraggan's name. Think it was me and three girls at one point. Yammy brought the good sake. Helluva time. But there weren't any guys, so I didn't think to invite you. Didn't really wanna see you eating ass in my house anyway." He took a swig of beer.

Grimmjow balled his fists in his pocket. "The job. I wanna know about the job."

"Right! Shit, cut me some slack. I'm still hungover." Tossing the empty can in the sink, Nnoitra murmured to himself, appearing to gather his thoughts. "So, there's this guy, name of Aizen Sousuke, ever heard of him?"

The name rang a bell. "Yeah. He's the guy that makes those fancy cars. What about him?"

"Then you know that those fancy-ass cars of his are making him bank. He's one of the wealthiest men in Japan, and he knows it. I've tried it all, Jaegerjaquez; bought stocks, spread false rumors, all for nothing. Everything I do bounces offa him. He's fucking untouchable. He knows he's a prime target for yakuza interference, and he's well protected against our people."

"Sounds like more trouble than he's worth."

"I'll decide that." Anger tightened Nnoitra's lips. Grimmjow suppressed a sigh. Telling Nnoitra no only ever ended badly. Just ask his exes, all of whom had fled his wrath.

"Mark my fuckin' words if he's that protective of his assets, there's something big he's hiding, something that could ruin him. Aizen Sousuke wants the world to think he eats and shits gold bars. We all know that's a crock of bull, and I'm gonna prove it. This ain't just any _sokaiya_ job, Jaegerjaquez. We play our cards right, and we've got one of the wealthiest men in the country eating outta our hands."

Impatience gnawed at Grimmjow. "What's the plan?"

Nnoitra leaned close enough for Grimmjow to smell his breath, bitter from beer. His single eye gleamed, his large teeth bared in a grin. "The family is hiring new staff. I can pull a few strings and get you and Szayel jobs in the villa. I've seen your work, I know what you can do. You're tough, but you know when to reign in it, so I'm trusting you with this."

A vein pulsed in Grimmjow's forehead. "You want me to play hired help for some rich asshole?"

Nnoitra's shit-eating grin widened, fueling Grimmjow's mounting fury. Nnoitra loved this; he loved reminding Grimmjow of just who really held the reigns in this syndicate. "What, don't look so insulted! I was just thinking of you. You're good at sucking cock, thought you might wanna get paid to do it!"

All the muscles in Grimmjow's arm tightened. Every breath came shorter and faster. He'd never come so close to putting his fist in Nnoitra's ugly mug.

Nnoitra raised his brows in mock concern. "What's the matter, Jaegerjaquez? I touch a little nerve?"

Grimmjow's jaw gnashed, clenching until he thought he'd shatter every tooth in his mouth. He hadn't left his family and joined the yakuza only to endure the same bullshit homophobic attitude he'd been rallying against the moment he'd figured out who he was.

"Fine. I'll do it." His voice quivered with suppressed fury and he didn't care if Nnoitra heard it. "I'll turn that house inside out and by the time I'm through, they'll be dancing to your fucking tune. But I'm not doing this for nothing. Keep whatever they give you. I don't want money, Nnoitra. Shawlong tells me you still haven't found a replacement for Baraggan. I want his position. I want to be your first lieutenant."

Grimmjow heart pounded so hard it was a wonder his body didn't quake with exhilaration. Ten years in this organization, and this was his chance to rise above. It would take time, but eventually, he might even rule the syndicate.

He would tolerate Nnoitra. If he'd lasted this long, he could wait some more until the slimy asshole took a bullet to the head and passed the torch. Grimmjow would be more than some lowly thug who'd come from nothing; he could someday command one of the strongest criminal organizations in Karakura Town.

Nnoitra sneered at him. "Tesla's my second in command. The role of first lieutenant should go to him."

"It's been a week, so why haven't you given him Baraggan's position? Face it, you know as well as I do that Tesla's loyalties are divided."

Nnoitra bared his teeth. "Shut your mouth, Jaegerjaquez."

"You really think Tesla's gonna stick around? He's got a family, you know how that goes."

"That little asshole owes me his life!"

Grimmjow snorted. "C'mon. Who's he gonna choose? You, or the sexy wife and the cute kid? He's got money, probably sitting on enough to run halfway across the world first chance he gets and take his family with him."

"You're full of shit, Jaegerjaquez." Nnoitra regarded him, lip curled, but Grimmjow knew from the fury in Nnoitra's eye that he'd touched a nerve. Nnoitra was stubborn, but he wasn't stupid. "You infiltrate that house and suck Sousuke's damn cock if you have to, whatever it takes for him to let his guard down. You succeed, and you can have whatever you want. Deal?" He extended spidery fingers.

Grimmjow clasped Nnoitra's hand and shook tight. "Deal."

* * *

Ulquiorra's stomach twisted into knots as recognition dawned in Grimmjow's sapphire eyes. His eyes widened, lips parted, and Ulquiorra feared Grimmjow would ruin everything.

"What the f—"

"Father, can I speak with you?" Ulquiorra asked, his voice sharp and effectively cutting off Grimmjow. "Privately."

"Certainly. It's a pleasure, Grimmjow. Please, report to kitchens for further instruction."

"Yeah, sure," Grimmjow stammered, glancing back at Ulquiorra as he left.

The door closed and Ulquiorra rounded on his father. "That man cannot work for us."

"He'll certainly be trouble. His clothes, and those revolting tattoos . . . But what I will not stand is him riding in on a bike made by our competitors. If he thinks he can do as he pleases in my house, he is mistaken."

Ulquiorra barely contained his relieved sigh. "So, he'll be fired?"

"Fired? Not at all. I will put him in his place and make him understand just who he works for."

Ulquiorra's heart sunk. "You're going to keep him on the schedule?"

"He came highly recommended, so did Szayel. We'll see how he performs. If he can do his job, then he will stay. If he causes trouble, he'll be out before the day is done." Aizen's eyes gleamed. "But mark my words, if he stays on the schedule, I will have respect from my employees."

Ulquiorra's fingers curled. "Father, he's not some dog you can train into obedience. Get rid of him."

"You are not head of this household yet, Ulquiorra. I have the final say in this matter. If you care so much, then you can oversee him and report back to me by the end of the day. We're done talking."

Stomach twisting, Ulquiorra left his father sipping tea and stopped dead in the hallway. The room began to spin. Grimmjow knew his secret. If Grimmjow blabbed that Ulquiorra had been in a gay bar, his father would be furious. Dread tightened Ulquiorra's chest, shortened his every breath and set his heart racing.

Grimmjow had to go, or he could bring ruin on Ulquiorra's future.

Ulquiorra hurried to the kitchens where he found the new chef overseeing the staff. Sky blue captured his gaze. Grimmjow and the other kitchen staff were already getting to work. There was no way someone with such a bloated ego as Grimmjow could stomach being given orders. He wouldn't last a day.

For most of the day, Ulquiorra checked in on the kitchen. The chef barked orders left and right and he rounded on Grimmjow and said, "Jaegerjaquez, get the salmon out of the freezer!" Grimmjow pursed his lips and did as he was told, shuffling down into the basement where the walk-in freezer was. He returned, lugging a container loaded with fish fillets.

"That's not salmon! I said salmon!"

Grimmjow's jaw tightened. Ulquiorra waited for it, the moment he clocked the chef and got the boot. Grimmjow scratched his head and said, "Fish all looks the same to me."

"Salmon is salmon! From the flavors to the texture, it cannot be compared to any other fish! It is the king of the ocean, a gift from Kami-sama, a—"

"I got it, already!" Grimmjow snapped. Stiffly, he turned and marched downstairs. He returned and slammed down a container of frozen salmon. Muttering, he shuffled to the other end of the kitchen and resumed chopping vegetables. Ulquiorra was stunned by his speed, though Grimmjow chopped so fiercely he dented the cutting board.

Ulquiorra's hopes deflated. What had happened to the rugged man in the bar, itching for a fight? This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Rather than dismissing his duties, Grimmjow chopped quickly, he cleaned up after himself, and he was strong and could carry heavy boxes to and from the freezer with ease. To his dismay, Ulquiorra even wanted to admit he was more dutiful than most of the staff. He did nothing lightly.

_Shit._

This wouldn't do at all.

As he stewed in anxiety, Grimmjow's bright blue eyes met his gaze.

_Why are you here? Am I supposed to believe this is fate?_

Grimmjow's cheek lifted in an infuriatingly smug smile, and he winked.

Ulquiorra turned away, cricking his neck in the process.

_Of all the people who could have walked through that door, why did it have to be you?_

* * *

Dinner would be ready within the hour and the kitchen staff were finishing the final preparations. Ulquiorra knocked twice on the door to his father's office and found his father on his laptop.

"Well, how is he?" Aizen asked, the glare from the laptop turning his glasses lenses white.

And here began the struggle. Ulquiorra searched for words but they were denied to him.

_Terrible: he works harder than anyone else except the chef, he's dedicated and precise, he's just the kind of worker we need. He's perfect . . . and this is awful._

"He has difficulty following orders." That much was true at least. "He has no respect for authority. I believe he'll be nothing but trouble down the line."

Aizen hummed, tapping away on his laptop keyboard. "Yes, we already suspected that much. Did he cause any problems?"

"He ruined three of our cutting boards."

"We have ample replacements. The fact is, the chef spoke very highly of him. He's so pleased we have staff who are, as he said, "Dedicated to the art of preparing a great meal.""

Ulquiorra was at a loss for words.

"It took so long to find a suitable replacement for Renaldo. If my new chef is happy, then that is all that matters to me." Aizen resumed his work.

Ulquiorra remained where he was, hands cold and clammy in his pockets. "Father,"

"This is my decision, Ulquiorra." Aizen's brow furrowed as he looked his son in the face. "And quite frankly, I don't understand why this is such an issue for you. Unless . . ." A shadow darkened his eyes. He rose from his chair, footfalls echoing in the quiet as he loomed over Ulquiorra.

A current of fear traveled down Ulquiorra's spine, like an electric shock that paralyzed him in place.

"Is it about your . . . urges?"

Ulquiorra tried to speak but his voice had shriveled and his throat was tight. He gave his head a shake.

"Look at me." Two fingers seized his chin and forced him to look into the cold analytical eyes of his father. "You told me the treatments worked. Were you lying to me?"

"No." His voice was barely a whisper. He could still taste the bile at the back of his throat, induced by pills that were bitter and too big to swallow. They were supposed to make him nauseous when he looked at homoerotic imagery, but his body refused to cooperate until he was so physically ill that he couldn't achieve an erection. When the pills weren't effective in "curing" him, then they'd shocked his hands and genitals anytime he had an arousing thought or feeling toward a man. He broke down after one week in treatment; he'd begged to go home, insisting over and over again that he was cured.

"Good. I will not allow you to bring shame into this family." Aizen took his seat. "I won't be joining you at dinner, I have work I need to finish."

Ulquiorra shivered, cold all over as nausea made a mess of his insides. Without a word, he slipped from the study, clutching the doorknob for support his knees trembled. He could never go back to that place, that prison in Osaka.

He rounded the corner and collided into a firm, powerful body. His heart gave a lurch as he looked up into wide sapphire eyes and a scowling face.

"Hey. Where's the bathroom?"

Now was his chance. Ulquiorra fisted Grimmjow's jacket. "Come with me. Now." He wrenched him down the hall and dragged him into one of the four guest bedrooms. Grimmjow stumbled, landing face down on the bed with an indignant squawk. Ulquiorra's fingers trembled as he locked the door.

"What the hell gives?" Grimmjow snapped.

"Be _quiet_." Ulquiorra seethed, closing his eyes tight to try and compose himself. He didn't know where to begin, and his emotions were rearing their ugly heads and threatening to choke him.

_Breathe. Don't lose your composure. Calm down. Calm down._

He took in deep, slow breaths and opened his eyes. The room was dark, quiet. He reached out, feeling for the dresser where the lamp would be.

"Grimmjow, I have no idea what you're doing here. But—"

"Trust me, I'm just as surprised to see you." Laughter rumbled, low and seductive. "I have to say, I like this side of you, Ulquiorra. I had no idea you were such a go-getter. It's a real turn on." Fabric rustled, a zipper buzzed. Ulquiorra's mouth ran dry. He whirled around in time to see Grimmjow's jeans pool around his ankles, revealing muscular legs and thighs, as tattooed as the rest of him. Tight black briefs teased the outline of a thick, heavy member, stirring to life before Ulquiorra's very eyes.

Grimmjow stepped out of his jeans, working his shirt over his head. "It was rude of you to run off without even giving me your number, Ulqui." His shirt drifted to the floor. Every muscle rippled as he came closer, bare feet slapping the wood floor. Ulquiorra breathed in and felt dizzy as Grimmjow's scent overloaded his senses.

"I thought about you all night, got so damn hard thinkin' of all the things I wanted to do to you." Ulquiorra's heart raced as eyes dark with lust combed over his every feature. A tanned finger played with the buckle of his belt, the warmth of his body blazed through Ulquiorra's clothes.

"Grimmjow—"

A low growl rumbled from deep in his barrel chest. Lips claimed his neck and sent blood rushing to Ulquiorra's cock.

"No more talking. I've seen you looking at me. You've been watching me all day, and I sure as hell have been watching you." Nimble fingers toyed with his tie and it fell with a ripple to the floor. A thousand questions swirled in Ulquiorra's mind, piling one on top of the other, and they all ceased to matter the second Grimmjow's breath warmed his lips.

"Time to pick up where we left off." The slightest brush of Grimmjow's lips against his had his eyes fluttering closed.

Ulquiorra Cifer hadn't the faintest idea how he'd gotten into this situation, and he didn't care. His body and mind surrendered completely. The whirlwind of shame tearing apart his insides since his conversation with his father faded. He parted his lips and allowed himself to be swept away by the typhoon that was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.


	5. Chapter 5

One button popped, then another. Grimmjow's fingers sought the warmth of Ulquiorra's skin. He went slow, not wanting to spook him and break the spell. All day long, he'd watched Ulquiorra be the man of the house, hovering over everyone, his eyes cold and indifferent. It set his blood boiling.

In this home, Ulquiorra was his superior, and knowing this infuriated him so greatly he'd destroyed three cutting boards in his anger. Then, Ulquiorra sought him out and turned everything around, right when Grimmjow decided he wouldn't bother with him.

A tiny gasp spilled from flushed lips as Grimmjow's hands wandered, squeezing a firm, defined chest. "Grimmjow." His name fell from Ulquiorra's lips in a breathy whisper. That dull, monotonous voice came alive.

In this room, Ulquiorra was just a man with his needs. They were equals.

_Ah. So, this is what I've been looking for._

Ulquiorra's eyes, dark with lust, looked at him and saw him for exactly who he was.

_I'm not scum from the streets. I'm not a yakuza thug. I'm not weaker than him, or stronger. I'm just Grimmjow._

His breath came in short puffs as he covered Ulquiorra's neck with kisses, sucking at milky skin hard enough to leave his mark.

The door rattled, the knob clicked. Ulquiorra tackled Grimmjow. The room spun around him as he landed face down on the bed. Eyes wide, he could barely utter a word before Ulquiorra slapped his hand over Grimmjow's mouth. The panic in Ulquiorra's face stilled Grimmjow's movements. He'd never expected such a look of fear on Ulquiorra's stoic face.

"Hello?" came a woman's voice from beyond the door. "I need to clean the room."

"It's clean!" Ulquiorra's voice cracked. "Thank you."

The sound of a vacuum cleaner sucking at the carpet faded away. Ulquiorra lurched away from Grimmjow to the end of the bed, shoulders rising and falling. Grimmjow raised himself onto his elbows, his heart rate catching up to him. Desire still throbbed in his loins, but the moment to act was quickly falling behind him. "Ul—"

"I forgot myself," Ulquiorra's sharp voice cut him off. His voice was rough, but slowly becoming monotonous again. "But you have the wrong idea about this situation."

The heat from their encounter quickly fled, leaving the room icy. "The hell I do. You sought me out!"

"Not for this." Ulquiorra straightened up, buttoning his shirt. "I don't know why you're here, but I will pay you to keep everything that has happened between us silent."

Something heavy sunk into Grimmjow's stomach. Humiliation gnawed at him and quickly turned to anger. "Pay me? The hell do you think I am, some asshole from the press?"

"Are you?" Ulquiorra's gaze was frigid, accusatory.

"No! I was just as surprised to see you as you are to see me!"

Ulquiorra scoffed, hair fluttering against his cheek as he turned away dismissively. "You expect me to believe that your arrival is pure coincidence?"

"Believe it or don't, what you think doesn't mean shit to me." He truly wished he meant those words.

"Fine. All that matters to me is that you keep this quiet. My father is insistent that you stay, but if I get the slightest hint you'll utter a word to anyone about what's transpired between us, I will have you out of this house in an instant. Are we clear?"

Fury robbed him of his words. He fisted the sheets. So, this was how things truly were between them. He'd been a moron to think they were equals at all. "You think you're such hot shit I'd blab about it like a high school girl? Get over yourself." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and turned his back on Ulquiorra.

"Very well." Ulquiorra's eyes lingered on Grimmjow's back. The silence begged to be broken, but Grimmjow would be damned before he said another word. The door closed and Grimmjow flopped down to the bed with a scowl. He dropped his arm over his eyes and seethed out a growl.

The sooner he got out of here the better.

_That's it._

His eyes flew open.

_I have it, the dirty family secret: Ulquiorra._

The shame such a secret could bring to the Sousuke family was unquestionable. This was exactly what he needed to get them eating out of the Gilga-gumi's hand—and he couldn't do it. He wouldn't out Ulquiorra and watch him get torn apart by the media, and disowned by his own family. No, Grimmjow wouldn't stoop so low. He was an asshole, but _that_ kind of asshole he certainly was not.

_I'll find something else. This family's got to have secrets. I've just gotta do some digging._

The Sousuke family would be at his mercy, and Ulquiorra would realize just how wrong he was to look down on him. Grimmjow swallowed hard, willing away the exhilaration he'd felt when those emerald eyes met his gaze.

Nothing else mattered. He'd serve under this arrogant family until he reached his goal. In the end, he would be the one at the top.

* * *

_I never learned, did I?_

The blades of grass prickled Ulquiorra's hands, soft and warm beneath him. The twittering of birds and the whispers of the wind through the trees would have normally soothed him, but there was an unease deep in the pit of his stomach that nothing could disperse.

_They could shock me, make me ill, but it was never enough to fix me._

Ever since he discovered he was gay, he'd felt trapped in a nightmare. There was no place for him in his family, in this country. Same-sex marriage wasn't legal in Japan, and gay people had few rights and protections. What other conclusion was he supposed to draw, except that he was different and unwelcome, an oddity. He'd quickly realized that he would die unhappy and alone in a loveless marriage. He'd tried to come to grips with this reality, but then he'd broken down and visited that bar. If he could just get these desires out of his system, he would be a normal member of society.

And then Grimmjow barged into his life.

_Grimmjow._

Wounded sapphire eyes blazed at him from the depths of his memory. Grimmjow was genuinely interested in him, and Ulquiorra had shut him down. He had to forget about Grimmjow. Having him in the house would be a test of his will, but he had to overcome. His purpose in life was to inherit the business. There was no room for anything else.

"Ulquiorra-kun?"

His eyes fluttered open.

A curtain of ginger hair rippled in the wind. Silver eyes lit up at the sight of him. "There you are! I thought I'd lost you." She knelt, her dress fluttering around her ankles. She clutched two ice cream cones. "Here you go. It was such a long walk from the stand, they almost melted."

Ulquiorra watched as the vanilla ice cream dribbled down the cones. "I don't eat sweets, remember?"

"Not even this once? You look like you need a pick-me-up."

Since she'd gone to the trouble, Ulquiorra accepted, wrapping a napkin around the cone to prevent his fingers from getting sticky. He gave it a lick and savored the cold, but he had no desire to eat it.

Orihime leaned back in the grass and sighed, face upturned toward the sun. "It's such a beautiful day. It's great to be able to get away from the studio for a while."

"How many more rehearsals do you have?"

"Only a week or so." She squirmed anxiously, face pinched. "You'll come and see the play, won't you? It's so cool. It's about an alien invasion of earth!"

Ulquiorra coughed to hide his chuckle. It sounded exactly like the kind of project Orihime would do. All the movies and plays she starred in usually featured some wacky story line.

"Oh my God!" A young man squealed, eyes aglow. "You're Orihime Inoue, aren't you? I'm such a huge fan!"

Orihime turned red. "Th-thank you so much!"

"Can I take a picture with you? I'm so sorry if I'm being annoying!"

"Of course!" Orihime jumped up. The starstruck man thrust his phone at Ulquiorra. "Can you take our picture?"

"Sure." It wasn't like he had anything better to do. He snapped a few pictures.

"This is the best day ever! I love you so much, Orihime-chan!"

Orihime bowed. "Thank you!" She waved as the man stumbled away, wheezing in excitement. "A lot of people recognized me today. I forgot to wear my sunhat." When she wore her huge sunhat, very few people recognized her.

"Don't you ever get tired of that?" Ulquiorra couldn't understand how she put up with it.

"Not at all! It's so flattering that people enjoy my work." She took a large bite of her ice cream cone.

"It would drive me insane."

"I think it's sweet." Orihime gazed out over the lake. She gasped. "Ulquiorra-kun, look."

A guy and his dog were splashing around in the lake. He was shirtless and water glistened on his rippling abs. Orihime drooled on her ice cream.

Ulquiorra tore his eyes away and watched the ice cream drip on Orihime's fingers. "Eat your ice cream."

She gave a jolt and crammed the last of it down her throat, cringing at the brain-freeze. She clutched her head. "Ow, ow, ow. He's so handsome, wasn't he, Ulquiorra-kun?"

Ulquiorra shrugged. It was hard to compare after being skin-to-skin with Grimmjow.

"Do you think he's single?"

"How should I know?" But considering he was alone on a beautiful day in the park, Ulquiorra wanted to say it was likely.

Orihime gasped. "I think he saw us looking." Before Ulquiorra could stop her, she waved. The guy flashed a shy smile and waved back before he tossed a tennis ball out into the lake for his dog to chase. "So cute!" Orihime squealed. "Go and talk to him, Ulquiorra-kun. He seems nice."

Ulquiorra couldn't picture himself and that man together, or any man for that matter. "What's the purpose?"

A frown darkened Orihime's face. "I'm tired of watching you suffer. You deserve to be able to be yourself."

"That isn't something that can just happen. I have obligations to the business, and my father's made it clear what kind of life he wants for me."

"What's more important; the business, or your happiness?"

Ulquiorra flopped back into the grass with a sigh. "What I want is unimportant. The business is my life, and if I give that up then I have nothing."

Orihime stared into her lap, fingers clenching at her dress. "Your father knows?"

"He thinks I've been cured. He wants me to keep meeting women."

"I'm so sorry, Ulquiorra-kun." Her voice trembled. "I wish there was something I could do to make this easier."

Ulquiorra's eyes opened. There was so much that was wrong about this situation he was in. It was bad enough that he felt no desire for women, but it was worse knowing that at the very least he would never have a decent relationship with them while they were stuck together. Every woman he'd met had been after his money and little else. Everyone . . . except Orihime.

Ever since they'd met in the school play as children, they'd been friends. Orihime sought him out when she noticed him going over his lines alone and since that first rehearsal, she'd been by his side. She stuck by him when others would ignored and laughed at his quiet nature. Orihime was the first person he came out to when he was struggling with his feelings for men, and she'd supported him when his own father reacted with disgust and shame.

"Are you going to eat that, it's melting." Orihime pointed to the ice cream cone.

"No, go ahead." Ulquiorra mumbled. She sipped at the soupy remains and crammed the cone into her mouth. Suddenly, he was seeing his funny friend in a new light. "We should get married."

Orihime choked. "What?!"

"You have wealth and status as an actor; my father would no doubt appreciate the publicity our union would cause; we're friends—it's perfect."

Orihime gasped for air, thumping herself on the chest. "Oh, I understand. You're just joking. That was funny, Ulquiorra-kun." She laughed nervously.

"I'm completely serious. If I have to be married to a woman, then there's no one else I'd rather be stuck with than you."

"How romantic . . ." Orihime inched away from him.

"Think about it," Ulquiorra said, looking her square in the eye. "You've always told me you're married to your work. I would support you in your career, all the while asking for nothing else in return. You'd have your every need met, and things don't have to be awkward; we could sleep in separate rooms."

"But that is awkward, a husband and wife who don't even sleep in the same room?"

"Just consider it. Your aunt and uncle have been pressuring you to marry for years, and you don't like any of their suitors. We already like one another. This is the chance to get our families off our backs so we can get on with our lives."

Orihime's brow furrowed and she fell silent, drinking in his words. "I just don't know, Ulquiorra-kun. We're friends. It would be so strange. But also . . . I trust you completely, more than any of the men my relatives have introduced to me. And I would be helping you in the process. Oh! If you're married to me, I won't mind at all if you bring handsome men home, you wouldn't have to go behind my back or anything!"

"So, will you think about it?"

She held his gaze, eyes full of uncertainty. She clasped his hands and held tight. "I will. I will, Ulquiorra-kun, but please be patient."

A weight fell from Ulquiorra's shoulders and every breath was easier. "Thank you."

* * *

A week later, Grimmjow threw on an apron as he entered the kitchens.

"Yo, Blueberry!" It was Renji, already at work preparing the ingredients for lunch. "You're late and the chef's in a bad mood."

"Hell if I care."

"You will when he sticks you in the pot and cooks you. We got a big day ahead of us and you're slowing us down!"

"Why, what's going on?" Grimmjow asked.

"You haven't heard? Sousuke and his son are having some big actress over for lunch. This is, what, the fifth girl this month they're entertaining? Let it be the last already! It just puts way too much stress on us."

Grimmjow barked laughter. Good luck getting Ulquiorra to marry a woman!

Renji quirked a brow. The chef stormed into the kitchen. "Jaegerjaquez! You're late! Stop standing around and go get the beef out of the freezer! We've got to have this meal ready by twelve o'clock sharp!"

Grimmjow snorted as he lugged a box of beef from the walk-in refrigerator. What a joke. None of these women had any idea Ulquiorra was gay. There's no way Ulquiorra would be dumb enough to go through with such an arrangement. Then again, this was the guy who had offered to bribe him to keep their encounters private.

Grimmjow stopped dicing ingredients. So, this was the obligation to family Ulquiorra had mentioned that night at the love motel. He couldn't fathom selling himself into a miserable marriage just to please his family. If his own parents tried to get him to do that, he'd have given them hell. Would Ulquiorra actually go through with it? By the sounds of it, he was resisting.

By noon, lunch was ready. Grimmjow's back was killing him and he was longing to sit down and rest and so during his lunch break, he sought out a quiet place to eat on the lawn. As he stepped outside, the gates opened and a limousine drove into the courtyard. Grimmjow stopped dead, peering out from around the tree to catch a glimpse of whoever was inside.

The driver opened the door and a young woman with ginger hair stepped out. He'd certainly seen her face plastered around the city on billboards. Hadn't she played an alien in some sci-fi movie? Grimmjow wasn't an expertise in fashion, but one look at her dress told him it cost more than his rent. She was undeniably beautiful, and her dress hugged her curves and showed off her ample bosom.

 _Yeah, good luck getting him to fall for that, woman,_ Grimmjow thought with a scoff, almost feeling bad for her.

Lunch could wait. He wanted to see how Ulquiorra reacted to this woman's attempts to melt his icy heart. He headed inside and up to the second floor. The maids whispered excitedly to one another, leaning around the corner to try and catch a glimpse of the famous actress, Orihime Inoue. Grimmjow poked his head out.

Ulquiorra, Sousuke, and Inoue were gathered around a table on the terrace, the doors open to let in the cool breeze and the scent of blooming flowers. They dined on tender cuts of wagyu beef and for dessert square watermelon would be served. Grimmjow knew because he'd had to lug the watermelon up the stairs. He hadn't even known square watermelon was a thing until today.

Orihime laughed and smiled, wrapping Sousuke around her finger with her charm. But it wasn't Orihime who captured Grimmjow's attention. His eyes were fixed on Ulquiorra, attune to the way he looked at her, the shadow of a smile upon his face when she cracked a joke.

Something simmered in his stomach. He couldn't watch this anymore. The longer he watched her dainty fingers linger on his hand, the more his jaw tightened in anger.

_What in the hell is he doing? Push her away, call it off._

Ulquiorra dabbed at the corner of Orihime's ruby lips with his napkin. She giggled, cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you, Ulquiorra-kun."

Ulquiorra hummed, a gentle, musical sound. His emerald eyes were soft and gentle. The iceberg was melting before Grimmjow's very eyes.

_He likes her._

Ulquiorra was fond of this woman, and if her rosy cheeks were any inclination, Inoue was taken with him.

_He's actually gonna go through with this._

Grimmjow's mouth ran dry. His anger had dissipated. Ulquiorra was going to willingly live a lie to please his father, and the revelation made Grimmjow sick to his stomach. He turned away and descended the stairs.

"Dumbass. Can't believe he'd do something so stupid . . ."

"My, my!" Szayel Aporro gave a start as he rounded the corner and came face to face with Grimmjow. "That is not an attractive look on you."

"Shut it." Grimmjow brushed past him. He never liked being around Szayel. Something about the way those eerie yellow eyes looked at him made him feel like a frog, waiting to be dissected. Szayel followed him to the garage where Szayel had parked his car. Grimmjow's motorcycle was in need of repair, so for now he had to rely on Szayel's hot pink Toyota to drive him home.

"It's not like I don't understand your frustration," Szayel said, starting the engine as Grimmjow climbed in. "I too am tired of kissing the boots of these arrogant snobs. But Nnoitra-sama will make it worth our while. That is, if you don't bungle it."

Grimmjow shot Szayel an incredulous look. "And why would I be the one to fuck things up?"

Szayel chuckled, sweeping flamboyant pink hair away from his face. "You think I'm blind, Jaegerjaquez? I've seen the way you look at Sousuke's son, like he's a piece of meat to be eaten."

"You've been watching me, huh? Got something _you_ wanna confess, Granz?" Grimmjow folded his arms over his chest as he turned to face his fellow yakuza.

Szayel drove them from the courtyard and the countryside became a blur as they drove, raindrops streaking the window. "You have quite the reputation you know. You have a certain . . . appetite for the male form."

"If that's all people are saying about me, maybe they've got too much time on their hands. What's your point, Granz?" Grimmjow could feel a vein pulsing in his temple.

Szayel's smile vanished and he fixed gold eyes on Grimmjow. "Keep it in your pants. I've been with this organization far longer than you. The title of first lieutenant should be mine. We may be working together, but trust me; the minute you slip up, I'll be there to remind Nnoitra-sama who really deserves his respect."

A sneer curled Grimmjow's lips. "Then you better hurry up and act, 'cause I'm already one step ahead of you, Granz."

Szayel's pompous demeanor deflated as he eyed Grimmjow with growing unease. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe on I'm onto something that could make Sousuke dance to my tune." It wasn't entirely untrue, he still had no intention of outing Ulquiorra, but saying anything that made Szayel squirm was satisfying.

Szayel's fingers squeezed the wheel. "You're hardly trying; you flaunted your tattoos on the very first day, and you're disobedient. I've been telling Nnoitra-sama since he first conceived of this idea that you're a threat to this job, and now you're preying on Sousuke's son."

"I'm not _preying_ on anyone!"

"If you can't take this seriously, one of us should." Szayel snapped.

Grimmjow looked away with an impatient _tsk_ and watched the scenery speed by the window. "Asshole," he muttered.

He had no idea how serious Szayel really was.

* * *

Szayel never arrived to pick Grimmjow up for work. He tried calling but received no answer. "The hell is up with him?" Usually Szayel texted him to let him know he was on his way. It was twenty minutes past when he was supposed to arrive, and Grimmjow realized he'd be late if he waited any longer.

He took the train, riding it to the very last stop. Now began the hard part, walking up the steep twists and turns to the villa. "Damn you, Szayel." He set off, sweat dampening his brow as he walked.

When he arrived at the gates, out of breath and sweaty, he came upon an unsettling sight. Police cars were parked inside the courtyard, and a handful of officers stood at the front doors, speaking to Aizen. Grimmjow swallowed, hoping his face wasn't known to these officers. He tucked his tattooed hands deep in his pockets. He gave the officer's a wide berth, stomach prickling with unease.

"What's going on?" he asked as he entered the kitchen.

"Don't know," Renji responded, arms folded over his chest as he reclined on the counter. "But the maids were complaining about blood in one of the rooms upstairs."

Aizen called the staff into the living room. "I apologize for the inconvenience. I'm going to ask for everyone's utmost cooperation with the police. There was a robbery last night. Our guard dog chased someone from the house. Whoever they were knew the layout of the house and was able to bypass our security. Until this person is caught, please be vigilant and if you see someone acting suspicious, let me know right away."

The staff eyed each other with mistrust.

"Grimmjow," Aizen motioned him to the study. Grimmjow's breath hitched. "I want to speak with you alone."

Ignoring the eyes on the back of his head, Grimmjow followed Aizen into the study. "Have a seat," Aizen said, sitting behind the desk.

_Shit . . . he doesn't suspect me, does he?_

Grimmjow dropped into a seat across the desk.

Aizen touched his fingertips together, cold brown eyes seeming to x-ray Grimmjow. "Szayel Aporro Granz hasn't come into work today."

Grimmjow's stomach plummeted. _That son of a bitch. He criticizes me for not taking the job seriously, then he goes and endangers my position as well as his? What in the hell were you thinking, Granz?_

"He gave you a ride yesterday, so am I to assume you know each other?"

"We're not friends, but we live close to each other, and my bike is outta commission." He wet his lips, trying to think of how he'd salvage this. "I don't know where he is, either. He was supposed to drive me to work today and he never turned up."

"You have no idea where he might be?"

"No." He'd likely be with Elforte, his brother, but Grimmjow wouldn't have the police raiding Elforte's apartment. He had to settle this himself, quickly and quietly. If the police captured Szayel and he blabbed to them about Nnoitra's plans, then it was game over.

"You knew nothing of his plans?"

Grimmjow looked Aizen dead in the eye. "He was antsy last time we talked, but I didn't think he'd do something this crazy."

He had to rectify this. Soon. If Aizen and the police suspected him because of his affiliation with Szayel, this whole operation was about to go out the window and with it, Grimmjow's chance to claim the title of first lieutenant. He'd be damned before Szayel ruined this for him.

Stomach twisting, he left Aizen's office while the police went in to speak with him. Grimmjow went in search of Ulquiorra. Perhaps he'd know more about the break in, and Grimmjow could understand the scope of the damage, whether it was fixable. He knocked on the door to Ulquiorra's room.

A booming bark made Grimmjow jump out of his skin.

"Down, Murci. Come in." There was something worn down about Ulquiorra's voice.

Grimmjow opened the door and froze in dread. An enormous dog with long orange hair bared its fangs. It snarled, orange mane bristling until it resembled a lion. "Down, Murcielago." Ulquiorra's voice snapped like a whip. The dog wagged a bushy tail and lay down with a grunt.

Grimmjow eased his way in, eyeing the dog warily. Ulquiorra sat on the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed. Emerald eyes landed on him and Grimmjow's skin prickled. He'd expected cold contempt since their last encounter, instead those emerald eyes were dark and empty.

"That's one hell of a dog." Grimmjow said, unsure what else to say. He hadn't expected to see Ulquiorra so downcast, and that was saying something when he was already one of the broodiest men Grimmjow knew.

"He's a Chinese-bred Tibetan Mastiff. I've had him since I was a child. He took a bite out of the intruder last night. What do you want?" Ulquiorra stood, combing through one of the drawers in the end table. Grimmjow noticed then that the dresser drawers were open, and so were the other drawers in the end tables.

"I had nothing to do with this. Szayel and I know each other, but I hadn't a damn clue what he was planning."

"I don't care about your involvement, I just—" Frustration seized Ulquiorra's voice. His shoulders slumped and he slammed the drawer shut. He dropped like a stone back onto the mattress, raking an agitated hand through tousled ebony locks.

Damn, if Grimmjow didn't think Ulquiorra was hot when he was angry, then he was lying.

"What's with you?" He reclined on the door, wrestling away the memory of the softness of Ulquiorra's hair through his fingers.

"Isn't it obvious? I've lost something. Or, rather . . . I think it might have been stolen in the break in. Never mind. It's probably for the best that I part with it anyway."

Intrigued, Grimmjow asked, "What is it?"

"A brooch."

"So, like . . . a necklace?" Grimmjow never pegged Ulquiorra as the type to appreciate jewelry.

Ulquiorra's lips thinned. "It's a pin. It's made of gold, fitted with an emerald."

"So, just buy another. Hell, you could probably buy thousands."

Ulquiorra's nostrils flared. Grimmjow might as well have just slapped him. "There isn't another like it, not in all the world. And I lost it because of my carelessness." Bitter regret evaporated Ulquiorra's quiet fury. His emerald eyes were as dark and dreary as a forest in an impending storm. "Just leave." Ulquiorra slumped back against the pillows. Murcielago nudged his master's hand with his nose but Ulquiorra was oblivious to the dog's concern.

Grimmjow couldn't understand why a brooch was so important to Ulquiorra, but he'd never seen him crestfallen. He supposed there was a heart in there after all, and it was breaking.

He stepped out into the hallway. What in the hell was Szayel thinking? There were supposed to sniff around for blackmail, not rob the place. He had to find Szayel. Perhaps, if he could reclaim Ulquiorra's brooch, he'd get back in the family's good graces.

* * *

After another hour-long train ride, Grimmjow made a bee-line for Elforte's apartment. He pounded on the door and Elforte greeted him with a smile. "Grimmjow! What a surprise. I just made tea."

"Haven't got time for tea."

"Oh. Oh, dear." Elforte's smile dimmed. "Are you here for Szayel?"

"He's here?"

"Yes. He arrived here in the dead of night, said he'd been bitten by a dog. Why?"

Grimmjow shouldered his way inside. "I'm in deep shit because of him. Where is he?"

Elforte twisted his thin fingers together. "Now, wait just a moment. You're already bristling like an angry cat. Just tell me what he did, there's no need to get violent."

"Oh, there's plenty need. He robbed the Sousuke family. Now, Sousuke thinks I'm trouble just by affiliation with your brother. Where is he?"

From the guest bedroom, something rattled, like a window flying open. Grimmjow took off, shoving past Elforte and throwing open the door. "Granz!" The window was wide open, curtain fluttering in the breeze. "Son of a . . ." he ducked beneath the frame and out onto the fire escape. The fire escape rattled, dirt rained on him from above. Grimmjow jumped the stairs and arrived on the rooftop. Szayel ran to the edge of the roof and jumped, landing on the adjacent rooftop.

The ground vanished beneath Grimmjow, the wind whipping back his jacket as he sprung, landing hard on the roof. Ahead of him, Granz leaped over ventilators and stumbled as his jacket snagged on a ventilator. Grimmjow sprung like a wild cat and the pair tumbled over.

Grimmjow fisted Szayel's jacket and slammed him down against the roof flooring. Szayel's face was smudged with dirt and every breath escaped him in a ragged gasp. "Grimmjow, wait! Let's just talk this through!"

Grimmjow hoisted Szayel's face off the ground and struck, knuckles bouncing off Szayel's nose. Blood spurted, Szayel's head struck the ground. He gasped and sputtered, coughing as he gargled on blood.

"You have the nerve to accuse me of not taking this job seriously, then you endanger both our positions pulling this crap! What in the hell were you thinking?"

"It—it wasn't supposed to end like this," Szayel seethed, teeth stained red. "All I wanted was to plant some bugs around the house, maybe tap the telephones, but then that mutt attacked me. I thought I'd need something to get me back in Gilga's good graces if he found out, so I took some pin from Sousuke's brat."

"Where is it, if you've sold it—"

"Here! It's in my inner pocket!"

Grimmjow thrust his hand beneath Szayel's jacket and retrieved the brooch. It was an emerald, framed with gold, and there was something on the back that felt like an inscription.

"Why do you want it? What are you going to do?" Szayel reached for it and Grimmjow hurled him back into the dirt.

"Taking this back where it belongs. You're done, Granz." Grimmjow stood. "I'm taking over the job from here, got it? You come near that house again, and that dog is gonna be the least of your worries. And that's not even taking into consideration how pissed Nnoitra is gonna be when he hears what you've done."

Szayel's eyes went wide in panic. "You can't tell him. You mustn't!" His voice grew shrill. He threw himself to his knees and bowed, his forehead to the ground. "Jaegerjaquez, he could have me killed!"

Grimmjow tossed the brooch and caught it, tucking it safely in his pocket. "That ain't my problem. Better than living to tell him some "sissy" kicked your ass and became Gilga's first lieutenant."

Fury contorted Szayel's face. He lunged for his hip. The pistol gleamed as it flew from beneath the hem of his shirt. Gunfire cracked and left a ringing in Grimmjow's ear. Burning pain erupted from his chest, as if he were on fire from the inside out. All the breath left his body, he clutched at his chest and his hand came away soaked in crimson.

The ground disappeared and he fell from the roof, landing in a tangle of limbs on the fire escape below. He struggled for each breath but with every gasp, it was denied to him. He stared up into overcast skies. The brooch was cold and heavy in his pocket.

_So, this is how Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez dies._

He would die as he'd lived; a nobody.

A window screeched open, a voice, shrill with panic, called out to him.

No one would mourn him, no one would care. For all the erotic flings under his belt, not one of them would care if they heard he'd died. To them, he was just another pretty face that warmed their bed. Shawlong would move on, whispering, "I told you so." Nnoitra would replace him in a week. His parents would lament the man he'd become, even if it was all their fault.

Would Ulquiorra spare a thought for him when they found the brooch on his corpse?

Would anyone care, even at all?

Dread clawed at his chest with cold, callous hands.

_I don't want to die._

His eyes were too heavy to stay open. He shuddered as the world around him grew bitter cold. He couldn't fight it. His resolve had faded. What was the point in ruling over this miserable city if he was alone?

Grimmjow closed his eyes and surrendered to the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

_So, this is what dying feels like._

Total darkness enveloped him, and he was cold. So cold.

_What a fucking drag._

He couldn't speak, couldn't move an inch. His body ached and weighed a thousand pounds. Warmth radiated from the hole in his chest. Then, there came the sensation of flying, distant voices coming at him, strict and urgent.

_So, where am I? Heaven, Hell? Never believed in any of those places, personally, but now that I'm here . . . I wanna say I'm going to Hell. Let's face it, I've been a bad man most of my life. Sure as hell didn't start off that way, though._

He'd been a pretty happy kid, the apple of his parents' eyes. His father worked in construction, his mother stayed at home to raise him. Grimmjow thought for sure he'd follow in his father's footsteps. He loved cranes and machinery, and spent most of his days off from school drawing pictures of skyscrapers with elaborate designs.

He had a normal, picturesque family, and he was one of the most popular kids in school. But he'd always been different. He wasn't sure how, but he could sense it. It wasn't until he was fourteen that he understood why. He fell in love for the first time—or, so he'd thought. But at such a tender age, starstruck to the point of speechlessness, it had sure felt like love.

Kenta. Grimmjow would remember the boy's name until he drew his last breath, which would likely be within a few minutes. From the moment he walked into the classroom, Grimmjow couldn't take his eyes off him. He couldn't speak to him, couldn't even muster the courage to approach him or meet his gaze.

His friends talked about the girls in school, girls they'd kissed for the first time, how hot girls were. They all wanted to know why he didn't have a girlfriend. Grimmjow hadn't given it a thought. None of the girls caught his eye. He'd never questioned where his interests lay until Kenta walked into class. But born from these heart-racing feelings was something far more sinister. Loathing, for himself, for that boy.

It wasn't normal to feel this way for boys. Hatred turned to fear, like a sickness ravaging his insides. If anyone knew, he'd be bullied and shunned. His infatuation turned to hatred. Every time he saw Kenta and got butterflies in his stomach, he wanted to hurt him. Mess up his stupid face until it no longer made him feel anything at all.

So he did. Kenta approached him, laid a hand on his shoulder. Grimmjow panicked, and hit him. He couldn't have stopped himself if he tried. He tackled him to the ground and screamed over and over that he hated him, that he wished he were dead as tears poured down his face because even then he couldn't convince himself it was true.

He could never explain to his family what came over him but for months, his secret consumed him, eating him alive from inside out, keeping him awake at night. He wasn't especially religious, but he prayed every night that these feelings would be gone and he'd wake up liking girls. It never happened.

He cut himself off from his friends, he stopped studying. He was sure if he told anyone, he would stop being Grimmjow to them. They would see him as someone to ridicule and avoid. But one night, his father took his mother to Tokyo for a dinner party with his coworkers. They left Grimmjow with his aunt. Grimmjow didn't know her very well, and his mother hadn't wanted him to stay with her. She never talked about her sister. Grimmjow couldn't understand why upon meeting her. She was warm and welcoming.

While his aunt prepared dinner, Grimmjow explored the house. His aunt decorated the walls with pictures of her husband and herself on vacation, and photos of her daughter. Her daughter frequently posed with another woman, both smiling and with their arms around each other. They didn't look like sisters, but he'd never seen two women be so touchy-feely with one another.

"Who's the woman with your daughter?" He asked at dinner.

"That's Miyako's girlfriend."

Grimmjow was stunned. His aunt answered with a smile, not missing a beat, as if it were such a normal thing to announce.

"That's weird," he said before he could stop himself.

"Is it? It's no different than a man and a woman."

But it was different, he'd wanted to say. If it weren't, then people would be more accepting.

"You think that's normal?" He'd wanted to sound angry, but his voice was pinched. Was it possible that he wasn't unusual if there were more people like him?

"Well, your uncle and I were both shocked at first. We were worried that she'd be bullied. But when we saw how happy she was, we decided that we would accept whatever brought her happiness."

Was it possible his parents would react the same way if he told them he liked boys?

"I think I'm . . . like her." His throat closed up, the tears burned hot at his eyes. All the fear and confusion that had consumed him flooded to the surface. "I think I'm gay." As the sobs tore from his throat, his aunt's hand fell warm on his shoulder.

"That's alright. It's okay." She rubbed his shoulders.

"Please, don't tell my parents!"

"I won't. I won't."

_You fucking liar._

A month later, she told his mother everything. He still didn't know why. Perhaps she was just a loudmouth. Perhaps she'd wanted to rub it in his mother's face to get back at her from cutting her out of her life—which he now understood was because Miyako was a lesbian.

His mother sat him down at the table and said, "Miyako is just confused, and so are you. She's always been a strange girl, never wearing dresses, cutting her hair short. This is a phase. It will go away."

But of course, it didn't, and when he was fifteen, that's when Grimmjow met him. An American transfer student, Oliver. They were both in the soccer club together. He was gorgeous; tanned and blonde, with icy blue eyes and freckles. It was all Grimmjow could do not to pop a boner when he stripped out of his sweaty uniform in the locker rooms. But Oliver did his fair share of looking, too.

"I'm only gonna tell you this once; keep your eyes in your damn head. You think I haven't noticed you checking me out?" Grimmjow told him. The field was empty. They were early to practice. "What are you, some fag?"

"I am, actually." Oliver replied, as if it were something to be proud of.

Grimmjow faltered. He couldn't fathom how someone could be so unapologetically themselves, when shame curdled his insides every time he got off to another man. "That's sick. You're sick!"

Oliver just laughed. Grimmjow's temper spiked. He couldn't stand those blue eyes, the way they looked at him, peeling back his skin to all his insecurities beneath.

"You're a sick pervert. What kinda freak thinks other dudes are hot?" Grimmjow stalked past him to pick up the ball and Oliver grabbed his wrist. All the blood rushed to his cock at the slightest touch. He whirled around to give him the what for, and warm lips claimed his in an urgent kiss.

Just a month later, Oliver asked to be his boyfriend. Grimmjow accepted and the days they spent together were some of the happiest of his life. He wanted to tell his parents. He thought for certain if they could see how happy he was, they'd support him.

"You've tainted my son!" His father's hands trembled as they clasped the front of Oliver's shirt.

A vase shattered, spilling water across the floor as Oliver fell, clutching at his bloody nose.

His father kicked and fought like an animal against Grimmjow. "You've infected him with your western disease! Get out of my house!"

Grimmjow trembled too much to restrain him. "Mom, do something!" he roared.

His mother sat helplessly at the table, her face in her arms, shoulders quaking with suppressed sobs.

Grimmjow ran to Oliver and helped him to his feet, feeling sick at the sight of the blood flowing thick from his nose. "What the fuck, Dad?" His fury choked him, every breath was like a knife in his lungs.

"Get him out of my house! Do you have any idea what people would say if they knew? My son and another man. It's unnatural!"

Legs trembling, Grimmjow helped Oliver out the door. His parents' raised voices echoed from inside the house.

"Are you okay? I'm so—I had no idea—"

Oliver pushed him away. "Christ. You told me they'd be all right with us."

"I—I thought—how was I supposed to know? I thought if they met you, they'd understand."

"So, what, Grimmjow? I'm just some peace offering to your parents? I'm supposed to change their minds?"

"No! _Fuck_!"

"I can't do this." Oliver stumbled away from him, eyes glossy with unshed tears. "I can't do this again. I'm not gonna teach you how to be gay, or help your parents accept you. You're on your own."

"Ollie," Grimmjow lunged for his hand and stumbled as Oliver shoved him in the chest. Oliver slammed the car door, ignoring Grimmjow as he pounded on the windows. Then Grimmjow could only watch as he sped away, until the tears blurred his vision.

"You cannot stay in this house," His father's voice was frail, and he'd never looked so tired. "I won't have you bringing men into our home. You can come back when you've decided you won't shame our family any longer."

Cold all over, Grimmjow turned to his mother for support and found only tears and smudged mascara.

They've gave him enough money to stay in a cheap a hotel for a month and he left that same night. When the money ran out and he still hadn't come home, they offered to send more. Grimmjow declined their help, and he stopped answering their calls. He'd rather sleep on the streets than go back home and live a lie the rest of his life.

_And look where that's got me now; dying with a bullet in my ribs over some stupid brooch. Ah, well. Still better than if I'd married some poor woman and trapped myself in a pitiful marriage. Not like Ulquiorra._

_Ulquiorra. He's gonna make himself miserable. He's so deep in the damn closet, he's in Narnia. He's got no one around who knows his secret, no one who cares if he goes through with it or not._

His jaw tightened and anger burned inside him, hotter than the bullet in his ribs.

_Pathetic. You're so pathetic, Ulquiorra. I know what it's like. I've been there before, but you've gotta snap out of it. Life's too short to live a lie. Someone's gotta stop him. Someone has to give a damn that he's making the biggest mistake of his life!_

His fingers curled, fisting something soft.

"Grimmjow?"

_And if no one else cares, then, damn it, I'll be the one to stop you!_

"Grimmjow?"

His eyes flew open, his whole body gave a jolt, as if his soul had landed back in his body. A familiar heart-shaped face peered down at him, framed by soft ebony hair. Emerald eyes observed him.

Plain white walls, a view of downtown Karakura beyond the bay windows, the scent of tile cleaner—he was alive, and in a hospital. Aching in places he didn't know he had, Grimmjow tried to prop himself on his elbows and regretted it as pain stabbed into his ribs.

"Here, some ice." Ulquiorra laid it gingerly across his throbbing ribs.

Grimmjow collapsed, thinking death would have at least been painless. Even breathing hurt. "What—what are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I came to see you. A friend of yours called us and told us you were in the hospital."

Grimmjow wondered how Elforte had reacted to seeing him crumpled and bloody on the fire escape, and what had happened to Szayel. Nnoitra would be furious when he learned Szayel had endangered the job.

"Do you want anything?"

"Water's great." Grimmjow croaked. Ulquiorra filled a paper cup and handed it to him.

"What happened to you?" Ulquiorra asked, eyeing the bandages on Grimmjow's chest. "The doctor told me you were shot, but how?"

"With a bullet from a gun."

Ulquiorra's lips thinned. Grimmjow cracked a grin and laughed, regretting it when his ribs throbbed. He hadn't figured out how to explain what happened without revealing he was part of the yakuza.

"Uh . . . so . . ." Grimmjow felt something pressing against the inside of his pocket. Remembering, he retrieved the brooch. "Think this is yours." He extended his hand and watched as surprise softened Ulquiorra's features. Grimmjow dropped the brooch into his hand.

"Yes," Ulquiorra's voice was barely above a whisper. "How did you—"

"I didn't steal it, first of all. But Szayel did. He wanted to sell it off to someone. Couldn't have predicted he'd actually shoot me over it, though."

"You got this back for me. Why?"

Heat raced up the back of Grimmjow's neck. "Couldn't have you thinking I had any part in that nonsense, just 'cause we knew each other."

"Yes. Of course." Ulquiorra was quiet, gazing at the emerald brooch. He stood, wandering to the window. "This brooch belonged to my mother. She left it with me when she put me in foster care, and it's all I have of her. For so long, I thought it was meaningless to hold onto it. But for some reason, it turns out I would rather be with it than without." A bitter laugh fell from Ulquiorra's lips. "I hardly remember her. She left me; she should hold no sway over my life, and yet she does. Foolish, isn't it?"

But Grimmjow didn't think so. He'd had no idea that Ulquiorra was adopted. He and Aizen looked nothing alike, so he'd assumed Ulquiorra inherited most of his looks from his mother, who he assumed had died. "Not really." Ulquiorra looked toward him questioningly. Grimmjow hesitated, reluctant to open up. "I get it. They should be the one missing you, regretting everything, reaching out and begging for forgiveness. Instead you're the one left with a hole in your gut—not that I still feel that way, but for a while, I sure did."

_Liar. Your family was all you could think about when you thought you were dying._

Grimmjow squared his jaw.

"Yes. That's it, exactly." Ulquiorra's voice was soft. When he looked back at Grimmjow, his eyes were warm and gentle, like a meadow at sunrise. Grimmjow's breath hitched, unable to look away from the emotions in his eyes that his face didn't convey.

_Damn. Still waters really do run deep._

For a moment they said nothing and gazed in silent understanding. Whatever animosity that had been simmering between them was gone, and in its place was something new and uncertain. Frightening. Grimmjow looked away and found himself short of breath, heart racing fast. "So what, should I have not brought it back if you're just gonna mope about it?"

"No. What I was trying to say is—" Ulquiorra hesitated, at a loss for words. With a quiet sigh, he approached Grimmjow's bed. Grimmjow's heart propelled itself into his throat, stomach doing acrobatics as Ulquiorra knelt. A dark brow knit over unreadable green eyes. The scent of aftershave and freshly laundered clothes compelled Grimmjow closer, until he could bundle himself up in Ulquiorra's scent.

"Ulquiorra, what in the—" If he stayed silent any longer, Grimmjow thought he'd go into cardiac arrest.

Soft fingertips caressed his cheek, robbing him of what little air he had left. The backs of Ulquiorra's fingertips skimmed his cheekbone, and that gentle emerald gaze met Grimmjow's. "Thank you," he said, his voice as gentle and soothing as a lullaby.

His breath warmed Grimmjow's lips and his eyes longed to flutter shut. Closing the space between them would be as easy as breathing, and no one's lips had ever looked so tempting. A knock at the door sent Grimmjow flying to the other end of his bed. Ulquiorra jumped and almost fell on his butt as the door opened.

"Jaegerjaquez-san, how are you?" The doctor introduced himself and Grimmjow wasn't listening.

_Why in the hell did he touch me like that? Wasn't it enough to just say "thank you" without giving me a heart attack? And what was up with me? Was I seriously about to kiss him like some chick in a Shojo manga? It's the painkillers, must be; I'm all high and making stupid decisions._

"So, the bullet fractured your rib. You lost some blood, but I don't foresee any major complications from this injury. You're going to be bed-ridden for a few weeks—"

_Ulquiorra, you socially-awkward dumbass. Can't you be a predictable human being for five seconds?_

"—so as long as you follow those instructions, you should be fully healed in a few months, although I'm going to recommend some PT after you're discharged—"

_So what if we both have family problems? We're not friends, we're not lovers—I feel nothing for him! I got the brooch back for my own personal gain, not his! Ha! I'm a selfish asshole who feels nothing for no one, and that's the way it's always gonna be! No romance for me, not ever again!_

"Any questions, Jaegerjaquez-san?" The doctor looked at him expectantly.

"Fractured rib, bedrest, PT, got it." It sounded like hell, but he'd get through it somehow.

The doctor stepped out to get medication and Grimmjow collapsed against the pillows with a scowl. "I'll die of boredom before I'm released."

"I know you probably think you know better, but try and follow the doctor's orders," Ulquiorra said, retrieving his coat from the back of the chair.

Grimmjow's stomach growled loudly. "Heh. What do you know, taking a bullet to the ribs works up quite the appetite."

"You'll probably need food with your medication. There's a convenience store down the street. I can grab you something."

Grimmjow was about to decline, he'd eat hospital food rather than accept help—except he really wanted ramen. "Do they have ramen?"

"Probably just the instant garbage."

"I'll take it, I ain't picky."

Ulquiorra left and Grimmjow gazed up at the ceiling. He could still feel Ulquiorra's fingertips against his cheek. No one had ever touched him so gently. It should have pissed him off to be touched as if he were something breakable, but he couldn't muster any irritation.

His stomach churned uneasily. He'd never been in this position before where he had to rely on someone else for help. For so long, he'd taken care of himself, scowling at any offers of help. He almost regretted asking Ulquiorra for ramen. He should have said no. He was weak enough as is without letting Ulquiorra take care of him. As to why Ulquiorra bothered at all, Grimmjow hadn't a clue. He thought for sure Ulquiorra hated him after their last encounter. The man was a mystery, and Grimmjow had never liked mysteries.

Ulquiorra returned with two bowls of instant ramen.

"Give it here," Grimmjow extended a hand.

"You're supposed to say in bed." Ulquiorra filled the bowls with water and microwaved them.

"Come on. At least let me do simple stuff."

"It would be foolish if you damaged your rib even more trying to make instant noodles. At least you can say you took a bullet and survived, it makes for a better story." Ulquiorra stirred the soup and handed it to Grimmjow. They slurped their noodles. Grimmjow smirked, watching Ulquiorra in his suit hunched over an instant noodle bowl.

"So, even Mr. Wagyu-Beef-And-Square-Watermelon can get down and dirty with the rest of us."

Ulquiorra quirked a brow and went on slurping. "I talked to my father and told him what you did. He's very impressed. He's offered you one of the guest bedrooms for when you work late so you don't have to worry about commuting early in the morning."

Grimmjow choked in his surprise. "He ain't expecting me to chase down burglars for him, is he? That was a one-time thing."

Ulquiorra, ever himself, missed Grimmjow's joke. "Of course not. Your hours are still the same. Feel free to spend the night whenever is convenient for you."

"Sure." Grimmjow certainly wouldn't complain. He'd be seeing even more of Ulquiorra. "I won't be there all the time, it'll be nice not having to commute so much. And hey, we can have sleepovers. Hope you like sexy pillow fights."

"Just don't keep me up too late. I have a schedule to keep."

Grimmjow couldn't tell if his flirting went over Ulquiorra's head, or if he'd just been shot down. It was difficult to tell when he was so reserved.

"I won't, 'less you want me to." And oh dear God, what he wouldn't give to be the one Ulquiorra would break his schedule for.

"Why would I—?" Ulquiorra's ears turned red when he looked into Grimmjow's smirking face. "That won't happen. I'll be engaged soon. I can't afford any distractions."

"Yeah, otherwise you might actually marry this one. She's what, the fifth girl already?"

Ulquiorra glowered over his noodles.

"Yeah, say nothing. The glaring makes it less true."

Ulquiorra set his chopsticks in the bowl. "I won't ask who you've been talking to. Fine. I've been trying to get engaged for years now. It's always fallen through—"

"Because you're gay."

"—Because it was never the right match. But Orihime and I have known each other since childhood. This time, we'll be engaged." He spoke as if saying it aloud would make it easier. Grimmjow's appetite diminished.

"Then what? You'll spend the rest of your life married to someone you don't even love and aren't attracted to?"

Ulquiorra huffed amusement. "You're one to talk. Have you loved any of the men you took to bed?"

"No, but at least I wasn't living a lie."

"Love has nothing to do with it, neither does attraction. This is a union of money and status." Ulquiorra disregarded Grimmjow's point entirely. Grimmjow was at a loss for what else he could say, aside from getting angry and calling him names. Nothing he could say would make a difference. It seemed Ulquiorra had accepted his sad and pitiful fate. "I have obligations to fulfill. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Grimmjow reclined, arm behind his head. "Yeah, sure is great not being a pawn to my father's will. Man, what a miserable life I have, free of responsibility, able to make my own choices. Free will fucking sucks."

"You're vile."

"It's called freedom, Ulqui. You should try it sometimes, it feels pretty great."

Ulquiorra tossed his empty cup in the trash and reached out to accept Grimmjow's. Grimmjow tossed it and missed. "Fuck!"

While they'd been talking, rain lashed at the windows. Ulquiorra looked out at the gale in annoyance. "Driving through that will be a pain."

"You can stay, you know." Grimmjow's heart lurched at the thought of sharing a room with him. The last time they'd been alone together, he'd had his hands all over Ulquiorra, his name falling in a breathy whisper from Ulquiorra's lips.

"Do you want me to stay?" Ulquiorra gave him one of those searching looks. Grimmjow couldn't tell what answer Ulquiorra was looking for, but if he was honest with himself, he wouldn't mind Ulquiorra's company.

"It's up to you."

The lights dimmed. Ulquiorra discarded his jacket and draped himself across the sofa. Ulquiorra shuttered the blinds and lay back, lashes fluttering against his cheek. Grimmjow gazed across the room at him, uncertain where this left them, but unable to find anything to complain about.

Grimmjow's head hit the pillow and Ulquiorra's gentle breathing filled the quiet corners of the room and lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Grimmjow was discharged from the hospital within a few weeks. Despite still being in recovery, he insisted upon working. So long as he didn't do any heavy lifting, his doctor deemed it safe for him to go back to work at the villa. Aizen allowed Grimmjow to make the guest bedroom his home away from home, and so Grimmjow and Ulquiorra found themselves living under the same roof.

Grimmjow mostly kept to himself, eating his dinner in his room, but he and Ulquiorra bumped into one another when they went to the workout room. Grimmjow couldn't lift weights, but he walked at a comfortable pace on the treadmill while Ulquiorra jogged.

"Show off," Grimmjow panted, sweat gleaming on his brow. "When I'm better, I'll outrun you."

"Everything is a competition with you, isn't it?" Ulquiorra huffed, stopping the treadmill and wiping the sweat from his face with a towel.

"Makes life more fun. What's the point in living if you aren't pushing yourself to be the best you can be? Whenever I see someone who's stronger or faster than me, it pisses me off and makes me wanna be even better. It's more satisfying than just settling for things as they are and not changing them."

Ulquiorra supposed that was true, but it wasn't always that easy for everyone. "How will you know when enough is enough, when to plant your feet in the earth and accept that things are as good as they can get? At some point you need to know when to give up."

"Give up? As if." Grimmjow upped the speed on the treadmill.

_Or what if things simply cannot get better? What can you do when you don't have the power to change anything?_

"Hey, what's with that face?" Grimmjow's electric eyes scrutinized him.

"Sometimes, giving up and accepting things as they are is the only alternative." Ulquiorra discarded the towel in the hamper and went to shower.

Later, he rummaged through his dresser and came upon the jewelry box at the back of his drawer. Taped beneath the box was a little key. He opened the box, gazing upon the brooch within. He turned the pin over and reread the inscription on the back for what must have been the hundredth time.

"May your life sparkle like emeralds." His mother's only words to him. He knew they were hers, because though countless pins in this style had been manufactured, not one of them had this inscription. Though she'd given him up, she'd prayed for a better life. Why couldn't that life be with her?

_If I'd stayed with you, what kind of person would I be?_

It was an impossible question to answer. He had no idea what kind of woman his mother was. He didn't have any memories of her, only the foster homes he'd been placed in one after the other. Until, one fateful day, a man in a sharkskin suit with chocolate brown hair and dark eyes had come to take him away. Since that day, his life sparkled, from the million-dollar automobiles to the plates he ate from. It sparkled in every way but from within. Something was missing, had always been missing.

_Is this the kind of life you wanted for me? What was Grimmjow saying? "Don't accept things as they are, try to make them better" or something to that effect._

He couldn't alter the course of his life, but not everything was incapable of changing. A burning desire took root within him as he read over the inscription on the pin. He wanted to see his mother. He wanted to ask her all the questions that kept him awake at night. Maybe then, this void in his soul would finally close.

She was easy enough to find on Facebook with a name like Amelia Urquiola Cifer. A glance at her middle name suggested his name was a variant of her own. He hovered the mouse over the message button and found his throat suddenly dry. He changed course, scrolling through her posts. She took pictures with her husband and two small boys with shaggy mop of black hair. Her children, or nephews? Ulquiorra's stomach clenched. They must be relatives. She'd never wanted children, if she had, she wouldn't have given him up.

Wetting his dry lips, he tried to compose a message, but words wouldn't come to him. Would she even want to see him, why should she when she'd left him? Trying to reach out to her was meaningless.

A voice spoke up in his mind, sounding awfully like Grimmjow. "Stop being a coward and just send the message already!"

If all he received was silence in reply, then he had his answer. He composed a short message, rewording and rewriting it for almost a half hour. Then he spent the next half hour trying to work up the nerve to send the message. Closing his eyes, he squeezed the mouse button, shut off his computer, and turned off social media for the rest of the day.

When night fell, his stomach was full of worms as he checked his messages—and found his inbox empty. It had been hours.

_I probably gave her a heart attack._

He turned off his phone and went to bed. He did everything to hold himself back from checking his messages the next day; he ate, ran on the treadmill, showered. When he turned on his phone and checked Facebook, his heart stopped. He'd received a reply.

She wanted to meet next week for lunch at her home in uptown Karakura.

_We've lived in the same city all this time?_

Somehow, realizing she'd been so close and yet willfully avoided him hurt like a punch to his chest.

Ulquiorra agreed to meet her. He and Orihime were supposed to meet that day so they could finalize their plans to marry, but he knew she'd be understanding if they postponed. His father on the other hand . . .

_What he thinks doesn't matter. I'm going to meet her._

From the dread and anxiety messing up his insides, there was a flutter of excitement.

_I'm going to meet my mother._


	7. Chapter 7

Ulquiorra checked the time on his phone. It was fifteen minutes 'till noon, but he'd arrived much earlier than he'd anticipated. He didn't want to knock on the door precisely on the dot. Must preserve some dignity, he didn't need to come across as desperate to meet the woman who'd given him up for adoption.

He glanced out the tinted window. He'd never been to this side of Karakura Town before. In the quiet, crows cawed, and his ears rang pleasantly. Every so often a family van drove by, but otherwise the neighborhood was sleepy and peaceful. He rolled down the window and breathed in the scent of freshly mowed grass, a welcome reprieve from the smell of fumes and sour garbage that permeated the streets of downtown.

The houses were quaint, priced for working class families, with enough space between them to afford some privacy while also not feeling too isolated. Ulquiorra checked his watch. It was noon, but he remained in his car. Stomach twisting, he glanced out the window at the front lawn of his mother's house. Like most of the other houses it wasn't too big or too small, making him wonder if she lived alone. Or if, after all these years, she had a family of her own. The thought twisted painfully in his chest.

_What was I thinking, coming here? I should be preparing for my future, not getting sentimental. What am I hoping to gain from this?_

Lacking answers, he checked his watch, counting the minutes. Five minutes after was reasonable. His fingers curled around the handle and he found his resolve waning. He forced himself from the vehicle and ambled to the front door. His hand was unsteady when he rang the bell. A dog barked, sniffing behind the door. Ulquiorra made sure his shirt was tucked in and straightened his tie.

_What will I say?_

He hadn't even planned ahead. He hadn't realized how truly unprepared he was until the front door opened and he found himself staring into green eyes the same shade as his. At the sight of him, her smile trembled, and emotions burned bright in her eyes. All the air was trapped in Ulquiorra's throat. He shared so much of her, from her eyes, to her height, to her dark hair and fair skin.

_What do I say? I can't call her mother, not when we've only just met. She's a stranger to me._

"Thank you. For having me," he added, his voice unusually pinched.

"Of course." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Come in, please. Take off your shoes."

Ulquiorra did so, looking around at the pictures on the wall. Pictures of her with her husband, posing in France, Italy, and New York. Ulquiorra had only ever traveled to Europe and the USA on business trips with his father.

Sunlight bathed the great room in warm, golden light. A plush sofa begged to be sat on, paintings hung from every wall of famous landmarks around the world, and Ulquiorra counted at least ten potted plants, succulents mostly. From the rustic furniture to the vibrant colors of the cushions and the enormous cat tree, preoccupied by two fat tabbies basking in the sun, the warm and welcoming atmosphere immediately set Ulquiorra at ease.

 _This is what all family homes should be,_ he thought, and felt an unexpected stab of longing.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please."

"Sugar, cream?"

"No, no." Ulquiorra peered up at a painting hanging over the stairwell. "The artwork is lovely."

Amelia's cheeks reddened. "They're mine. My husband insists on hanging them around the house. Personally, I only look at them and see improvements I should have made. Please, sit wherever you like."

Ulquiorra looked around the room from the sofa to the dining chairs. He opted for the sofa. He'd feel less like he was being interrogated. Amelia handed him a steaming stone mug of tea. She sat in the armchair across the coffee table, blowing at the steam curling from the mug. She looked at him and smiled before quickly averting her eyes.

Ulquiorra took a sip to avoid speaking first. Spicy ginger and a zest of lemon danced across his tongue. The stone mug warmed his fingertips as he watched the ripples in the teacup.

"Go ahead," Amelia looked toward him expectantly, her smile worn and anxious. "Ask me whatever you like."

There was only one question he truly wanted an answer to, but he couldn't drop such an enormous bomb after only a few minutes in her home.

_Think of something else. What about her profession? Wait, she's an artist. Her husband's profession, ask about that. Anything but—_

"Why did you put me up for adoption?"

Amelia choked on her tea.

_Orihime always said I was too blunt for me own good._

"Sorry, never mind. I can ask something else if you'd rather not—" Ulquiorra fumbled for words, trying to salvage the situation.

"It's fine. Of course you would ask. I'd have been surprised if you didn't." Amelia took in a breath, gazing into her tea. Ulquiorra squeezed the stone mug, urging his heart to calm its frantic race. Her lips attempted a smile, but it was thin and didn't touch her eyes. "I never meant to get pregnant. I was very young and trying to keep my career as an artist alive. I know many women who have had children quite young, but I wasn't mature enough to be so selfless as to put my needs before yours. I decided that after you were born, I would give you to a family who could love you and give you the life you deserved."

"A life like emeralds." His chest tightened and to his alarm, tears prickled in his eyes. He quickly blinked them back. For a moment, he'd felt for the first time the warmth of a mother's love and sacrifice.

Her eyes widened and she smiled. "You still have my brooch."

Ulquiorra pulled the brooch from his inner pocket. He'd wanted to wear it, but forgot. Now, he felt disgustingly unworthy of it. He held it out to her, but she placed her hands over his and held tight.

"Keep it. It was a gift, and a blessing. I had it inscribed the day your new father came to take you away. I don't remember his name."

"Aizen Sousuke."

"Yes, that was it! So, tell me," warm green eyes met Ulquiorra's gaze. "Does your life sparkle, Ulquiorra?"

Ulquiorra parted his lips but words wouldn't come. Down the hall, the doorknob rattled. Amelia heaved a sigh. "What? I told him—"

Two young boys came crashing down the hall, backpacks swinging from their shoulders. "Mama!" They pounced on her and hugged her tight. Amelia gave him an apologetic smile but Ulquiorra was frozen. "Ben, can you please—"

Ben wrangled the boys upstairs. Ulquiorra stared into his lap, the mug of tea turning cold in his hands. "You have children."

Amelia laughed. It was an uncomfortable sound, as if she could somehow read Ulquiorra's thoughts. "Yes, sorry for the interruption. I told Ben to take them out to the park for at least an hour."

_My life doesn't sparkle, Mother. Not really. Not like the lives of those boys. They grew up in a warm, quaint house, with two parents who loved each other. They might not have much, but they have just enough to be happy, and what they don't have, they make up for in love. I have a business empire in the palm of my hands, my every need met, and yet—_

_"_ Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"No, that's all right. I don't want to intrude."

He couldn't stay. He couldn't stand this warm family environment anymore. He didn't want to hear the boys talk about their day at school with big, bright smiles, or watch them laugh and gather around the table together, not when his own father couldn't join Ulquiorra at their eight-seater table. His father, who'd never asked about his day at school, who'd never seen him off to class with a hug or a tender smile, never taken him to the park or anywhere else he wanted to go because Ulquiorra had to focus on his school work. Because Ulquiorra wasn't his son; he was a pawn in his father's plan, tolerated so long as he did what he was expected.

Something throbbed deep in his chest, a piece of himself he'd never realized was missing until now that he finally understood just what was lacking from his life. "I should be getting back." He set aside his unfinished tea and stood, suddenly short of breath.

"Oh, it's that late already?" She trailed behind him to the door while Ulquiorra put his shoes on. "Congratulations on your marriage." He'd mentioned his engagement in his message to her. "I hope you two will be very happy together."

"We will." The lie tightened his throat, until it was all he could do to speak.

"Thank you for coming. I hope we can speak again."

Ulquiorra said goodbye and walked out without another glance. He stepped out into quiet so deep it rang in his ears, looking around at this perfect, idyllic neighborhood. He got in the car and slumped against the seat, staring up at the sky through the sunroof.

He closed his eyes tight as the ache of loss throbbed in his chest, grief for the childhood and the family he'd never had. Sorrow for the lonely man he'd become, whose life was cold and devoid of purpose, and whose value was measured not in love but in materialism.

_She's so happy. Happier than she'd have been if she'd kept me in her life. Why? Why couldn't she be happy with me?_

Ulquiorra had never realized how much the villa swallowed him. Every footfall echoed. It was too big, like a vast, empty ocean. If he drowned, would anyone hear, would anyone care?

"Ulquiorra," his father's deep voice drew his attention to the sitting room. Ulquiorra looked around at the bare walls and the cold, monochromatic furniture. He'd never appreciated how color could brighten a room until the afternoon he'd spent with his mother. "Sit down. I want to talk to you."

With laden feet, Ulquiorra trudged to the armchair and took a seat across from his father. "Yes?"

"You left the house without the ring. You were supposed to propose to Orihime-chan today."

Ulquiorra remained quiet.

Aizen sighed, disapproval narrowing his eyes. "Orihime is a good match. Her status as an actress would mean good publicity for our family. Don't ruin this, Ulquiorra."

"I . . ." Ulquiorra swallowed the words before they could surface.

"What is it?"

"I feel nothing for her."

Aizen closed his eyes, massaging his temple. "I've told you, love has no role in this. It doesn't matter how you feel toward her. I won't have my only son unmarried and childless well into his thirties. She's taken with you, she's willing. That's all that matters. If I have to take matters into my own hands, I will. You're going to marry her, I will not have no for an answer."

_I am drowning. No one can hear. No one cares. No one wants to listen. If someone could just listen, just for one moment—_

If Ulquiorra had an argument, it died the moment he looked into his father's dark, loveless eyes. What reason did he have to fight for himself? What he wanted didn't matter. What other choice did he gave but to go along with his father's demands?

_I can't take this. I'm tired of trying to stay afloat when I wouldn't make a difference if I lived or died._

Ulquiorra bowed his head in understanding. There was no way out, not for him. It was his fate to die alone and unloved. He thought he'd accepted this until he'd realized what he was missing. How could he live never knowing what it meant to be whole, happy, and loved?

If his only choice was to live half alive, then why bother living at all?

* * *

The next morning, Grimmjow hit the gym, hoping to get in some exercise before he began his shift. He stepped into the gym and found it empty. Disappointment gnawed at him. He was feeling better than yesterday, and had anticipated outrunning Ulquiorra on the treadmill. He checked the time. Strange. Ulquiorra was always in the gym around this time.

Now what would he do? His urge to exercise diminished, Grimmjow went on the prowl for Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra could was as oblivious and socially-awkward as one could be, but Grimmjow always got a kick out of teasing him. The reward was always worth it when he got a rise out of him; be with a blush or a smoldering glare that made his dick stand to full attention.

Grimmjow knocked at Ulquiorra's bedroom door. "Yo, get up! We've got some laps to run!" No answer. He pounded on the door. "Come on out, afraid I'll beat ya?" When silence answered him, he nudged open the door and found the bedroom dark. The bed was made and the bathroom door was open, the interior dark and quiet.

Grimmjow closed the door, scowling.

_Where is he?_

"Grimmjow, good morning." Aizen greeted him as he passed through the kitchen. "Coffee, tea?"

"No, thanks." Grimmjow would sooner get bitten by a snake than drink anything Aizen prepared for him.

"Have you seen Ulquiorra this morning?" Aizen poured coffee into a mug and added a teaspoon of sugar.

 _Never trust a guy that puts sugar in his coffee,_ Grimmjow thought, gagging at the idea.

"No. He wasn't in the gym. Did he go to work or something?"

"We were supposed to work from home today. I hope he's patching things up with Orihime."

Grimmjow's jaw clenched at the thought, but if he was honest, Ulquiorra was probably with her. Sucking up to her, playing the role of the perfect soon-to-be husband, all the while dying inside. A vein puled in his temple. The thought made him sick.

"Ulquiorra?" Renji piped in. "Yeah, I saw him a while ago. He came into the kitchen, didn't say anything, though."

"Did he go anywhere?" Aizen asked.

"Not sure." Renji opened the dishwasher and scowled. "Come on! I keep telling everyone to put the knives back after they use them. Now, I'm missing one."

"Check the storeroom, we have a whole box of them." Aizen picked up his coffee. "If anyone sees him, remind him we have a conference call at eleven-thirty."

Realizing he still had time before he had to start preparing lunch, Grimmjow poured himself a mug of coffee—black, no sugar, like a real man—and took it outside on the lawn. The early morning sun had been stifled by dark heavy clouds, and the wind promised a shower of rain.

Grimmjow ventured into the garage, about as large as a whole city block. Ulquiorra's car was gone.

_Come to think of it, I didn't see him all day yesterday. I heard him come home, but he didn't eat dinner. Where the hell would he go so early, without saying anything?_

He checked the time. In five minutes, it would be eleven-thirty.

_The guy's so punctual, he wouldn't miss a business call. So where is he?_

Uncertainty twisted his stomach into knots. Grimmjow couldn't say why, but he wanted to find him. Quickly. Grimmjow led his motorbike across the driveway and asked the security guard if he'd seen Ulquiorra. The guard motioned up the road, so Grimmjow kicked his bike into gear and sped off.

_Something's wrong. And why am I the only one who cares that he just took off without telling anyone when he knows he's got a conference? Why does that sit well with everyone except me? He's heir to the damn company and no one knows or cares where he is!_

He rode his bike down the long stretch of road, speeding past gated houses. He slowed down as he approached the summit of a steep hill. Something cold fell into his stomach. Ulquiorra's car was parked just off the road, the front door wide open. Grimmjow rode down the hill and decreased the speed enough to hop off as he approached. He left his bike and peered in through the open door, mouth dry. The aluminum key lay next to the gas pedal. There were no smashed windows, nothing to indicate a struggle.

_Shit. What the hell is going on?_

Heart pounding, Grimmjow looked into the woods. He ran, jumping over sprawling roots and nearly lost his footing more than once on the uneven ground. "Ulquiorra!" The trees towered over him, branches blocking out the sunlight. The woods were vast, there was no telling where he could be. "Ulquiorra, if you're here, answer me!"

The trees pressed in on him, the silence that rang in his ears seemed to mock him. Every breath turned sharp and short.

_Fuck! I'm too late. Something's happened, I know it. But what? Why would he just leave his car, disappear without saying anything?_

_Because he's not planning on coming home._

Cold sweat broke out across his brow.

_The missing knife. Now, the empty car. Running off into the woods._

His throat closed up.

_No. No. That doesn't make any sense, why would he do that? To escape his marriage? But there are other ways, you idiot! You can still fix things without ending it all!_

He had to find him. He had to find him and tell him everything. So he ran, until his lungs ached and pain stabbed like a knife in his ribs. He left the trees behind and came upon a hill. From here, the distant lights of the Karakura skyline twinkled across the river. Grimmjow doubled over, gasping. Blinking sweat from his eyes, a shape blurred into focus.

Ebony hair swayed in the breeze. Grimmjow heart lurched into his throat. Ulquiorra stood at the edge of the hill, staring across the river. "Ulquiorra!"

Ulquiorra looked over his shoulder. Vacant eyes regarded Grimmjow, seeing right through him.

Anger overran his relief. "Where the hell have you been? What happened?"

Ulquiorra looked away. "Go back." His voice had no bite to it. It was more a plea than anything else.

Shivering in the bitter wind off the river, Grimmjow too one step, then another. "Ulquiorra, what's going on? Talk to me. Don't—don't do anything you'll regret, all right?" Now, more than ever, Grimmjow wished he had a way with words but so long as Ulquiorra listened, he would keep saying whatever he could.

Ulquiorra huffed laughter. "I'll regret living more. My life is meaningless."

"So change it!" Grimmjow's stomach twisted as those words fell from Ulquiorra's lips. "You can still take control of it, you can't do that if you're dead!"

"I haven't been in control of my life since it started. My father decided everything for me, and I let him. The least I can do is let it end on my terms. It's for the better. I'll save some poor woman from a miserable marriage, I won't disappoint my father when I finds out I wasn't cured."

"Cured? Ulquiorra, what the hell are you talking about? And what about me, huh? What about the trauma I'll have to live with the rest of my life after watching you kill yourself?"

"You'll get over it. My father will find another heir. Orihime—"

"Don't put words in my mouth. And screw your dad, and screw Tits McGee. If they really think that little of you, then they aren't worth your time. Look at me, Ulquiorra. What did you mean by "cured?""

Ulquiorra was quiet, looking all at once so frail and small that a wind might carry him away. Grimmjow bent, patting the grass. "Sit down. Tell me. Come on, you love to flap your gums every chance you get and sound all superior and smart. I got time."

Those dark, lost eyes widened. His lips trembled. Grimmjow had never seen him so close to breaking, never seen him so utterly human, rather than the perfect machine his father wanted him to be. "When I told my father I was . . . that I liked men, he sent me away for "treatment.""

Hearing those words, Grimmjow felt as lost as Ulquiorra. His emotions surged, until his throat was too tight to speak, and his nails cut into his palm. He didn't know whether to be angry or sad or disgusted. "I'll kill him."

"I went willingly. I thought I was broken, that these feelings were a defect. I thought I could be fixed, I wanted to be normal."

The wounds of his own past reopened. Grimmjow swayed in the wind, unable to muster any words. He knew exactly how it felt to carry around the fear of being different.

 _Fuck, Ulquiorra, you_ are _normal. You're arrogant and awkward, and you piss me off more than anyone, but you're not a defect. You're not any of those things._

"The treatments failed, but I told my father I was fixed anyway. I wanted to go home. If he finds out, I'll only disappoint him, if anyone outside the family found out, I would bring nothing but shame to my father. He's given me a life I never deserved. I can't dishonor him."

"Screw him. This isn't about him. You've gotta live for you."

"I'll lose everything if I don't marry; my family, the business. Not all of us can live as recklessly as you." The words might normally have been an insult, but Ulquiorra's voice was filled with admiration and longing. His shoulders slacked, lips trembling as he gazed over the precipice. "I don't know what to do."

Grimmjow nodded his understanding. He had no idea how anything he might say could make things better.

"The fact that you're here instead of him shows how much he values me. I'm tired of trying to be what he wants me to be. Thank you for listening, but I think it's best for everyone if I just leave."

Grimmjow's heart plummeted. "Listen to yourself! You want change, so fight for it! I don't have a damn idea what change means to you, so I can't tell you what's right. I can tell you what I'd do, though. Come out in the gayest way possible, make out with a dude in front of Tits McGee, and get the hell away from your father."

"She has a name."

"Whatever! It'll be hard, but it's doable. You jump, and the solution you're looking at is permanent." Grimmjow watched him, trying to discern if anything had sunken in.

Ulquiorra pulled a knife from his belt and tossed it into the grass. "When I left the villa, I thought I'd crash my car and cause my death in the process. Turns out, I'm too good a driver. So I thought I'd use a knife, but I'm too squeamish. If I can't even properly end my life, how am I supposed to plan a new future for myself."

Grimmjow barked laughter. "Those two ain't exactly the same things, Ulquiorra."

"Now, I'm just wondering if the drop from here is sufficient."

Grimmjow had enough. "Let's find out." If Ulquiorra wouldn't value his life, perhaps he'd value someone else's. Grimmjow positioned himself away from Ulquiorra, so the man wouldn't think Grimmjow was sprinting for him and get any ideas.

"Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra's voice was small, unsettled.

Grimmjow charged, the wind swept his hair back as he raced for the edge of the hill. The ground sloped, the waves crashed below, reaching up toward him. Just as he put on the breaks, the slope gave beneath him. His heart sunk. The wind went out of him as Ulquiorra body-slammed him. Grimmjow lunged, wrapping his arms tight around Ulquiorra. The world spun around them as they tumbled over, rolling to a stop.

Ulquiorra's heart roared in his ears, his chest rising and falling. Grimmjow struggled for breath, clutching at his ribcage as it spasmed.

"Shit. Your rib, is it—" Trembling hands rolled him onto his side. Grimmjow cringed as Ulquiorra touched the tender spot.

"Yeah, touch it! Fucking hell!" Grimmjow seethed.

Fury blazed in Ulquiorra's eyes. He fisted the front of Grimmjow's shirt. "You—you idiot! Why would you do that?"

Grimmjow swallowed, stunned by the fury that thinned Ulquiorra's lips and darkened his eyes. His cock gave an approving twitch. Holy hell, was he hot when he was angry. He snapped his legs shut around Ulquiorra's hips and flipped them over. Ulquiorra's hand struck him in the chest. Grimmjow seized his wrists, pinning them over his head. They panted, Ulquiorra's hot breath against Grimmjow's lips, ebony hair mused with sweat and sticking to his forehead.

Ulquiorra struggled, bucking his hips. Grimmjow grinned. "Struggle more, Ulqui. You're rubbing all the right places."

Ulquiorra relented, dropping back against the grass. His shirt had drifted open, giving Grimmjow an eyeful of the smooth skin of his collarbone.

"Why are you here?" Ulquiorra's voice was worn and ragged. "Of all the people in that house, you're the last person I ever expected to care about what happened to me."

Grimmjow didn't have an answer prepared. They'd known one another a few weeks; so much of Ulquiorra was still a mystery to him, but Ulquiorra wasn't at all what he'd originally assumed.

"Why'd you come to the hospital every day?"

Ulquiorra's nostrils flared. "Answering a question with a question . . ." he muttered. "You risked your life because of my family. I know when to show appreciation. Now, you answer my question."

Grimmjow looked away, searching for an answer. He didn't know why he was here, why he cared about what happened to Ulquiorra. He wasn't exactly known for looking out for others, it wasn't how he'd survived all these years. But back in the hospital, when Ulquiorra opened up about his mother, Grimmjow had felt a sense of unity he'd never felt before. It was the moment he'd realized that he wasn't alone. The scar he carried around from the day his parents disowned him was a personal wound. He'd never expected anyone actually knew how bad it felt. But in that moment, he was seen—understood without having to say a word.

"Grimmjow?"

He looked down into soulful emerald eyes and found himself as speechless as before. How could he ever hope to convey these personal emotions? Ulquiorra's lips tempted him closer, his fingers squeezed Ulquiorra's wrist, longing to tangle in soft dark hair. But Ulquiorra would push him away, like he always did. Words couldn't express much it meant to know he had someone to share such a burden with. Except, perhaps, to return the favor.

"Get angry at me more often." Grimmjow eased himself back onto his knees, unable to meet Ulquiorra's gaze. He scratched the back of his head. "Shit. Uh . . . what I mean is . . . If you're angry, just fuckin' yell at me, you know. If you're sad, whine about it. I'll listen. And if you ever, get the stupid fucking idea to kill yourself again, then you tell me, so I can beat it outta your head and give some more stupid reasons to go on living."

Ulquiorra's chest heaved, and for a moment, emotions blazed bright and fierce in his eyes. Ulquiorra blinked hard and looked away, out over the river at the periwinkle sky. "Thank you." His voice trembled.

Grimmjow's breath caught and all he wanted to do was pull Ulquiorra to him and cover those trembling lips with his own. Kiss him until they were breathless, until there could be no doubt in Ulquiorra's mind as to how wanted he really was.

Grimmjow tore his gaze away, tangling his fingers in the grass and squeezing hard. He'd never wanted someone he couldn't have, but Ulquiorra didn't need complications in his life right now. No, what he needed was to have some fun after this colossal shit-fest of a day. He stood and slapped Ulquiorra on the shoulder. "Get up. Let's get outta here for a while."

Grimmjow couldn't fight back the grin when Ulquiorra stood without question—almost. "Where to?"

"Doesn't matter. I knew a few places. Nothin' fancy, but they'll do. Karaoke bars, places we can grab a bite. Sound good, or would you rather run back and do that conference call?"

Ulquiorra bowed his head and laughed, a quiet musical sound that hit Grimmjow straight in the heart. Good God. Ulquiorra's laugh and that tiny, near invisible smile could cure cancer.

Ulquiorra's eyes sparkled when he returned Grimmjow's gaze. "Lead the way."


	8. Chapter 8

They returned to the villa. Ulquiorra hounded him with questions as to why, but Grimmjow wanted it to be a surprise. He walked with Ulquiorra into the garage where he'd parked his motorbike. He handed Ulquiorra a spare helmet and patted the leather seat. "Hop on. We're riding into the city with some flare."

Ulquiorra walked around the bike, curling his fingers around the handlebars. "It's a beautiful bike. My father manufactures sports bikes. Actually, this brand is a direct competitor."

Grimmjow grinned. "Yeah, I know."

"I knew you were trying to send a message." Was that a hint of affection in Ulquiorra's voice? "You know, my father's fired people for that."

"So why'd he keep me?"

"He wanted to put you in your place. But personally, I think he realizes you aren't a man who's easy to tame."

"Damn straight." Grimmjow sidled up to Ulquiorra, reclining on the edge of the seat and looking like a snack and a half. He plopped the helmet on Ulquiorra's head and gave it a good smack. Ulquiorra pushed him away, adjusting the helmet while Grimmjow climbed onto the bike.

"Just promise me you won't crash," Ulquiorra said.

Grimmjow patted the seat behind him. "Just get on." He put on his helmet.

Ulquiorra sat behind him, his arms wound around Grimmjow's waist, his chest nestled against Grimmjow's back. Grimmjow swallowed, stomach all aflutter. The engine roared to life. Ulquiorra jumped. Grimmjow chuckled. "Hold onto me real tight."

Ulquiorra clung on for dear life, squeezing the air out of Grimmjow's lungs. Grimmjow cracked a grin and they flew from the garage, out through the gate and onto the vast open road. Ulquiorra's arms loosened over time, and Grimmjow shot glances over his shoulder and found Ulquiorra looking around at the countryside speeding by them.

It was dark by the time they arrived in the city, but all the lights were on. People crowded into bars and lined up outside restaurants. Grimmjow parked the bike and collected their helmets, tucking them in the compartment on the back of the seat. Ulquiorra's hair was windswept, and he stumbled off the bike, blinking as if in a daze.

"That's a nice look on you," Grimmjow said, weaving his fingers through Ulquiorra's hair to tousle it back into shape. Ulquiorra batted his hands away and squirmed out of reach. His ears were bright red. Desire gnawed at him and Grimmjow wrestled away images of those red ears beneath his lips.

"That was . . . something else."

"Exhilarating, ain't it? Really feels like flying." Grimmjow gave his bike a fond pat and tucked the keys into his pocket. But what had truly got his heart racing was when Ulquiorra held him close. Like a baby monkey. The urge to protect him had suddenly engulfed Grimmjow, and he'd driven with more caution than usual, even though the road into the city was quiet.

Ulquiorra shivered as he stepped onto the sidewalk, adjusting the buttons on his jacket. Grimmjow scowled. He'd forgotten to ensure Ulquiorra was dressed warmly for the wind. He wasn't used to riding with a passenger. Ulquiorra peered up at the skyscrapers illuminating the sky. "I've never been in the city this late before."

"You're a real bad boy, now." Grimmjow clapped him on the back. He wanted any excuse to touch him, even if he made sure it was casual-friendly.

"Where to?" Ulquiorra looked across the street at a French restaurant with crowds outside the door. "If you're not sure, I can suggest a few places."

Grimmjow tutted disapproval. "Ulqui, you have so little faith in me. Why would I have asked you out if I didn't have any ideas? First of all, no fancy places. I know the kind of boujee crap you eat. There'll be no wagyu beef, or square watermelons. Tonight, we're eating like normal people."

"Oh? And what do normal people eat? Enlighten me."

Grimmjow's lips quirked. He loved it when Ulquiorra was sassy with him. "I'm talking burgers, shakes, fries! You know, the food of the poor and middle class."

Ulquiorra furrowed his brows. "What are those?"

Grimmjow's jaw went slack. "Burgers. Beef or turkey patties. You know!"

"If I asked, I obviously don't."

Grimmjow's brow twitched. Unbelievable. "You've never had a hamburger before? Please tell me you've at least had fries!"

Ulquiorra pursed his lips and gave a confused shrug.

"You've never—you've never had a—" Grimmjow felt ready to combust. Ulquiorra was truly beyond hope. Not even Grimmjow could save this damned soul from the eternal fires of boredom.

Ulquiorra's lips twitched. He ducked his head with a quiet laugh. "Of course I've had burgers and fries, idiot.

Heat rushed to Grimmjow's face. "You're good, Ulqui. With that poker face, you could say the dumbest shit and people would believe you're being honest."

They found a burger joint, reasonably priced, the air thick with the mouth-watering aroma of charred meat and burger sauces. They grabbed a booth for two. Grimmjow snatched up the menu, stomach roaring. "Want anything to drink?"

Ulquiorra checked the drink menu. "I'll usually take a martini wherever they serve them, but I suppose I'll settle for an IPA."

Grimmjow cringed. He hated IPAs. He ordered a glass of Hibiki on ice and a double cheeseburger with bacon. Ulquiorra ordered his beer and a turkey burger.

"So you're a martini kinda guy? Coulda guessed."

Ulquiorra took a gulp of beer, dabbing at the foam on his upper lip with a napkin. "You were drinking the same thing when we first met."

"Always liked a good whiskey. Beers all taste the same to me, and IPAs are too fruity: just go drink fruit juice. Cocktails are all right if you don't like the taste of alcohol and wanna wash it done with somethin'. But my dad was a whiskey fanatic; my grandfather owned a distillery so my dad grew up knowing all about whiskey. Always talked about wanting to make his own after he retired from construction."

Memories came rushing back of him and his father sitting on the sofa after his mother had gone to bed, having a drink in secret to avoid her disapproving gaze. Grimmjow hadn't been of legal age, so he'd only been allowed a small amount. They'd stayed up until midnight, talking and joking, his father's face ruby red from drink, his smile warm and bright.

Grimmjow couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father smile, or when they'd last had a drink together. He took a hearty gulp and swallowed down those memories with a grimace. Those days were long gone, never to come back. He'd lost the right to his father's love when he came out, and after what his father had done, Grimmjow would be damned before he forgave him.

"What is it?" Ulquiorra was giving him a searching look.

Grimmjow shrugged.

"Are you still close to your family?" Ulquiorra asked.

"No. And I'm not talking about why."

Ulquiorra nodded and sipped his beer.

Grimmjow wondered if Ulquiorra had any connection to his biological family, but he supposed it would be hypocritical to ask when he refused to share anything about his family. Even after all these years, the wound was still tender to the touch.

Their burgers arrived, steaming hot. Grimmjow realized he'd forgotten to order fries when a basket full of them was set down beside Ulquiorra's plate. "Fuck, totally forgot about fries," he muttered, taking a big bite out of his burger.

Ulquiorra rotated the basket toward him. "Help yourself. I can't eat all of them."

"Oh. Thanks." Grimmjow snagged a couple.

"Why did you get those tattoos?" Ulquiorra asked.

Grimmjow almost choked. "I don't know. My ma always hated tattoos. Thought I'd stick it to her."

"Ever the rebel," Ulquiorra remarked, chowing down on his burger.

Grimmjow smirked. "Why, you like bad boys?"

"I don't actually like tattoos. I thought only yakuza had them."

Grimmjow's skin prickled, unease forming a lump in his stomach. "I mean, sure. Tons of yakuza have 'em, but I hear they're pretty common outside of Asia. Some people just like 'em. Tattooists are artists, just like painters. So don't let yakuza ruin tats for you. You'd look pretty hot with a couple tats."

Ulquiorra scoffed.

"No, really. You've already got that dark, broody, angsty look. A couple tats in the right place . . ."

"What are you talking about? 'Angsty' . . . It's called fashion."

"Wearing suits and slacks and button ups ain't fashion. Just makes you look like a repressed forty-year old businessman."

"What about you? Leather, your tattoos, your outrageous hair. You dress like a greaser from America."

Grimmjow barked laughter. "Is that code-word for charismatic and hot?"

Ulquiorra's eyes combed him over from his head to the tips of his tattooed fingers. A surge of heat swept down Grimmjow's spine. "It's . . . becoming. You certainly stand out."

Grimmjow puffed out his chest. "That so?"

"Don't act so surprised. I'm sure dozens of men have told you the same thing." He was right, but somehow, earning a compliment from Ulquiorra was especially rewarding. Grimmjow drained his glass and then it hit him.

"Oh, fuck."

"What?"

"I forgot; we have the bike."

Ulquiorra's face fell. It had slipped his mind, too. "That's right. I should have reminded you."

Grimmjow shrugged. "It's fine. Tonight's been fuckin' strange. Guess we could always take the train."

"They only run so late. We need to keep track of the time."

"Right, right. So, let's eat and do some other stuff before it gets too late."

Grimmjow devoured his burger in a matter of bites and waved over the check. Ulquiorra slapped his card on the table. Grimmjow threw it at him. "It was my idea to go out, so I'll pay."

"I'm more than happy to pay for both our meals."

"Why, 'cause you've got more money than me?" Grimmjow shot him a glare.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened. "No, that's not—" While he floundered to explain himself, Grimmjow handed his card off to the waitress.

"I'll pay for dinner. You can pay for anything else. Deal?"

With that agreed upon, Grimmjow signed, left a decent tip, and they set off through the streets together. "Any ideas for what you wanna do?" Grimmjow asked.

Ulquiorra looked around at the shops and bars. "I'm not sure."

A karaoke club flashed a neon sign over the doorway, splashing the streets with changing colors. Grimmjow grabbed Ulquiorra's arm. "Let's do karaoke."

Ulquiorra shook his head. "Not on your life."

"Oh, come on! Some places have private rooms."

"If you want to embarrass yourself, go ahead."

"Let's do a sing-off. I bet I can hit that high note in "Take on Me.""

Ulquiorra snorted. "As if."

Grimmjow shoved his shoulder. "Why, think you could?"

"I'm not going to encourage your competitive streak."

Ulquiorra followed him into the bar and Grimmjow asked for a private room. Muffled singing echoed from within the rooms, some better than others. Grimmjow ordered them a round of beers and led the way to the room.

"I'll go first," Grimmjow said while Ulquiorra took a seat on the sofa. "Whoever gets the higher score gets free drinks from the loser!"

Ulquiorra sighed. "Very well."

Grimmjow scrolled through the song list until he found one he knew by heart, "Pour Some Sugar on Me." As the song started, Grimmjow swayed his hips and the song quickly took a turn for the dirty as he was determined to outperform Ulquiorra. With his eyes fixed on Ulquiorra's, he shed his leather jacket and tossed it onto the couch.

"Listen! Red light, yellow light, green-a-light go!  
Crazy little woman in a one man show  
Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love  
Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up  
Loosen up!"

Ulquiorra caught his leather jacket, tapping his foot in time to the music. Grimmjow's heart raced knowing those emerald eyes were fixed on him alone.

"Pour some sugar on me  
Ooh, in the name of love  
Pour some sugar on me  
C'mon, fire me up  
Pour your sugar on me  
I can't get enough!"

Grimmjow loosened his belt. Ulquiorra's eyes grew impossibly wide, wetting his lips as Grimmjow flossed the belt back and forth between the loops of his jeans. Grimmjow swung his belt around—and hit the ceiling fan. "Shit!" He decided to just stick with singing.

Once the song ended, Ulquiorra said, "That was . . . interesting."

 _This guy is impossible to seduce,_ Grimmjow thought. "Your turn."

Ulquiorra shuffled up beside him and browsed the list of songs. For nearly a minute.

"Come on, make up your mind!" Grimmjow took a swig of beer.

"There are so many. This one? No. Or maybe—"

Rolling his eyes, Grimmjow jumped up and joined him. "Let's do it together, then. We'll still be scored, so whoever scores highest wins."

Ulquiorra grunted his agreement. Grimmjow wasn't familiar with many of the duets, and when he spotted a song he happened to know, he blanched. No way was he singing that with Ulquiorra.

"I know this one," Ulquiorra pointed to the title of the song Grimmjow knew.

""I Can't Fight this Feeling?" Well, well, you're a sappy one, ain't you?"

"One of the women I was supposed to propose to listened to it all the time."

Annoyance simmered in Grimmjow's stomach. "Yeah?"

"She'd sing it in the car. She had a nice voice, but after a while, it was tiresome to listen to."

"Let's sing it."

"It's a love song," Ulquiorra stated.

"A song's a song!" Grimmjow would prove who truly had the better vocals, the ex-fiancée or him. And he intended to win.

The music started. Grimmjow realized they hadn't decided who was going first.

"You go," Ulquiorra shoved him toward the microphone.

"Coward," Grimmjow muttered. He gulped down the last of his beer just in time to jump in.

"I can't fight this feeling any longer  
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow  
What started out as friendship has grown stronger  
I only wish I had the strength to let it show,"

Grimmjow stumbled over the words, all too aware of Ulquiorra observing him in his peripheral vision. His confidence plummeted.

"I tell myself that I can't hold out forever  
I said there is no reason for my fear,"

 _Damn it. Why'd I have to pick this song? It's way too personal.  
_  
Unwilling to let Ulquiorra see him so uncertain, Grimmjow squared his shoulders and belted out,

"'Cause I feel so secure when we're together  
You give my life direction  
You make everything so clear."

_More like so fucking confusing._

"And even as I wander  
I'm keeping you in sight," Ulquiorra joined in, staring intently at the lyrics on the screen. Grimmjow's heart tumbled over at the sound of Ulquiorra's voice. It was deep and soothing, and sent a shiver down his spine. He'd never imagined Ulquiorra would actually sing, and sing well.  
"You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night." Ulquiorra's gaze flicked toward him and then away again when he caught Grimmjow staring.

"And I'm gettin' closer than I ever thought I might," Grimmjow joined in, unable to stop smiling when Ulquiorra hit that high note with him.  
"And I can't fight this feeling anymore  
I've forgotten what I started fighting for  
It's time to bring this ship into the shore  
And throw away the oars, forever," they sang together. Grimmjow added in some exaggerated gestures and Ulquiorra doubled over with a snort of laughter. Ulquiorra's gaze finally left the screen and as their eyes met, Grimmjow felt a sudden rush of fearlessness.

"'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore  
I've forgotten what I started fighting for  
And if I have to crawl upon the floor," Grimmjow sang, dropping to his knees.

"Come crushing through your door," Ulquiorra motioned toward the door.

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore!" Grimmjow flopped back on the floor, grinning up at the ceiling.

"You've had too much to drink." Ulquiorra extended a hand and Grimmjow accepted, wheezing laughter. He stumbled as he rose, latching onto Ulquiorra's shoulders. As the guitar solo swept through the room, Grimmjow's mouth went dry as he looked into Ulquiorra's eyes and felt his slow, warm breath against his lips. All the feelings he'd suppressed came surging to the surface, and as Ulquiorra's eyes darted to his lips, he was running out of excuses as to why they shouldn't cross that line.

Grimmjow's fingertips twirled a strand of Ulquiorra's hair, the warmth of Ulquiorra's small, slender body compelled him closer, until he could feel every uneven rise and fall of Ulquiorra's chest against his. All it took was a sign that Ulquiorra wanted him, and the dam would break.

His hand settled, ever so slowly, on Ulquiorra's waist, winding slowly around and pulling him closer. Ulquiorra didn't push him away, his eyes closed. Grimmjow's heart roared in his ears as he dipped his head, willing his heart not to erupt in his chest as he parted his lips.

The song abruptly came to an end. Grimmjow's eyes opened and found Ulquiorra's hand on the karaoke machine where he'd turned off the music. Avoiding his gaze, Ulquiorra weaseled out of Grimmjow's grasp. Grimmjow's arms fell lifelessly to his side, disappointment heavy in his stomach.

_Why? What the hell am I doing wrong? Does he want me or not?_

"It's late," Ulquiorra's voice was dry as he shrugged on his jacket. "We need to leave, or we'll miss the train."

"Ulquiorra—" Grimmjow couldn't take much more of this back and forth.

Ulquiorra left without another word.

Grimmjow slammed the microphone back into the holder. Something had to give. His balls couldn't get any bluer—and his heart wasn't used to being jerked around. He trailed behind Ulquiorra as they left the bar. Ulquiorra stopped briefly to speak to the bartender. "He said we can cross through the park. The train station is on the other side."

"Whatever." Grimmjow truly didn't care. He was angry enough to just want to go home and sleep in his own bed and avoid spending another minute with Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra glanced his way, lips parted as if the say something. His eyes were wounded like a kicked dog. But Ulquiorra led the way without a word. Grimmjow followed, glowering down at the ground as he considered just taking the train back to his apartment.

They left the hustle and bustle of the streets behind and wandered through the park. The park belonged to the hobos asleep on the benches, dogs and their owners out on the last walk of the day, and the occasional couple making out in the shadow of the trees. Every so often, his eyes landed on Ulquiorra's back. Words pressed against his lips, but he kept them bottled away. He both wanted and didn't want to know where they stood. This vulnerability and uncertainty wasn't something he was used to feeling. He'd rather it just went away.

"Have you ever been to this park?" Ulquiorra asked over his shoulder.

Grimmjow shrugged. "Maybe."

Ulquiorra looked away, dejected. Now Grimmjow felt guilty. Great. "Where'd you go yesterday?" He asked, just wanting to move past that moment at the karaoke bar.

Ulquiorra slowed his steps, gazing up at the stars in contemplation. Grimmjow broadened his strides and found himself walking beside Ulquiorra, watching as the moonlight caught in his dark hair and brought a glow to his eyes.

"I met my biological mother." From the tone of his voice, Grimmjow didn't believe it had been a happy encounter.

"And?"

Ulquiorra's shoulders rose and fell. "She has a family of her own."

Grimmjow grimaced. "Ouch."

"All I wanted were answers, but I wasn't expecting to realize just how empty my life is in comparison to hers."

Grimmjow scoffed. "That's coming from the guy with a garage full of a trillion dollars' worth of cars."

Ulquiorra shot him a look that was wounded. "You're right. It's foolish to complain about my life when I've never wanted for anything. But I'd give anything to have what she has: a place I can feel accepted, where I don't have to live up to anyone's expectations."

It was Grimmjow's turn to feel like an ass. It was hard for him to listen to rich people complain when he'd struggled to get by on the streets, but Ulquiorra's problems were legitimate and despite their differences, Grimmjow could understand his feelings.

"And after meeting her, you decided to—you know." Grimmjow's chest tightened.

"Coming home to the villa made me feel like I was drowning, and I was tired of trying to stay afloat when it wouldn't matter to anyone either way."

"It would matter to me," Grimmjow said. Ulquiorra stopped walking and turned to face him. Grimmjow hadn't expected to say anything. He was surprised as Ulquiorra looked. Grimmjow squared his shoulders and folded his arms. "That a problem to you?"

Ulquiorra closed his eyes with a little sigh, hair fluttering against his cheek. When his eyes opened, they were full of tender feeling. "It's unexpected."

"Well, get used to it."

Ulquiorra's lips twitched. "I'll try."

Grimmjow caught his breath as Ulquiorra turned away. His heart pounded against his chest, trying to burst free.

_What in the hell is happening to me?_

They walked through to the end of the park and hurried down into the metro just in time to miss the train. The train they needed wouldn't come for almost thirty minutes, but a look at the schedule revealed another train they could take much sooner, only it was out of their way. Grimmjow scratched his head, trying to think of a solution. "Next train stops near my place. I've got an extra room at home if you want a place to crash."

Ulquiorra stifled a yawn and accepted. Grimmjow hoped D-Roy would be asleep.

* * *

They rode the train to Grimmjow's place. Grimmjow's eyes struggled to stay open, head lolling back against the seat. Ulquiorra's chin drooped to his chest, lashes resting against his cheek as his eyes closed. The train rocked and Grimmjow slumped against Ulquiorra. Grimmjow scowled, too tired to move away. Ulquiorra wasn't a bad pillow.

Yawning and exhausted, they stumbled off the train and the short walk to the apartment seemed so long. It was a sizeable apartment, with two spare bedrooms and a master bed and bath, with two other bathrooms available throughout the apartment. Grimmjow could remember feeling so proud to be able to afford it after living in rundown hellholes for years.

"Want water or anything?"

"No, thanks."

Grimmjow downed a tall glass in under two seconds while Ulquiorra hung up his coat. It was weird having a guy in his apartment that he wouldn't sleep with. Even more bittersweet that it was Ulquiorra.

Grimmjow approached the empty guestroom, adjacent to D-Roy's room. "You can sleep in here. Bathroom's right here." He motioned to a door between the two rooms. He stepped aside so Ulquiorra could open the door.

"Thank you." Ulquiorra gave him a small smile. "Goodnight."

Grimmjow nodded. "Yeah. Goodnight."

Ulquiorra lingered in the doorway and Grimmjow remained where he was. Ulquiorra looked away, tongue darting across a supple lower lip as he fiddled with the doorknob. The expectancy hung in the air between them, thick enough to choke Grimmjow from uncertainty. What was he waiting for? He should walk away, the only trouble was he couldn't bear to.

He boxed Ulquiorra on the shoulder. Ulquiorra jumped, a little burst of breathy laughter escaping him. "What was that for?"

"You tell me. You always look like you're thinkin' real hard about something. Someone's gotta bring you back to earth."

Ulquiorra bobbed his head. "I am thinking—or I was, but you interrupted me."

Grimmjow's lips quirked and he reclined in the doorway. "Yeah? About what? Space and time, the meaninglessness of life?"

Ulquiorra nibbled at his lower lip, gazing at the space between their feet. Desire swiftly robbed Grimmjow of his breath.

_Fuck. Just fuck._

"About you, actually." Ulquiorra's eyes found his briefly before darting away at a spot beyond Grimmjow's shoulder.

Grimmjow nodded, unable to speak.

"I was thinking that I've been an ass regarding some things." Grimmjow raised his brows, urging him to be more specific. Ulquiorra cleared his throat, blinking fast. "Toward you, mostly. Of course, you're an ass, too. But in different ways." Ulquiorra's hands twisted together. "You've done a great deal for me in the past few hours. I appreciate it. You. That's all."

"'Kay." Grimmjow's throat was dry, his stomach twisting and turning. "Thanks. No problem." Easing out all the air trapped in his lungs, Grimmjow managed a smile and turned away.

"And," Ulquiorra blurted out before Grimmjow could walk away. "What I'm trying to make clear is; you matter to me, too. Even if I don't make it obvious, or if at times it might come across the total opposite. I was taught to hide my feelings for men. So, it's hard sometimes for me to be open about how I feel."

Grimmjow chewed his inner lip, wrestling with the urge to pull Ulquiorra close and kiss him. "I know."

"Good." Ulquiorra shuffled his feet. "Well, then." He held Grimmjow's gaze and gave a little nod to excuse himself. He didn't move, neither did Grimmjow. After that confession, Grimmjow wasn't going anywhere.

Grimmjow stepped into the warmth of Ulquiorra's body and leaned his forehead against the smaller man's. Emerald eyes, lidded, dark and unreadable, both thrilled and terrified him. If Ulquiorra pushed him away now, Grimmjow didn't know what it would do to him.

Ulquiorra grasped the front of Grimmjow's shirt and tugged. Grimmjow stumbled into a small yet strong body, as Ulquiorra clasped his face in his hands and covered Grimmjow's lips with his.


	9. Chapter 9

The moment Ulquiorra's lips touched his, a party went off in Grimmjow's mind. There was live music, food and drink, fireworks, and in attendance was all his doubt and insecurities, celebrating the moment he never thought would actually happen.

Of all the ways he imagined this happening, he'd been the one to initiate it. In his wildest fantasies, he never dreamed Ulquiorra would actually make the first move. In his astonishment, his mind was a thousand miles behind his body. His cock was in the running, hard as iron as all the blood in his body flowed south. The rest of his body was slow on the uptake, arms stuck stupidly by his side.

Sensing this, Ulquiorra pulled back abruptly. "What's wrong?" His voice was worn and low, breathless with desire. Ulquiorra's lips thinned and he grimaced. "Shit. I'm sorry. This wasn't what you wanted. Or it was but I was too forward. Which was it?"

Grimmjow's mind finally caught up to his raging, hormonal body. His arms flew around Ulquiorra and pulled him close until there wasn't an inch of space between them. Ulquiorra was light enough to lift and so Grimmjow hoisted him ever so slightly off the ground, bringing Ulquiorra completely into his body. He swallowed Ulquiorra's low moan with a bruising kiss.

Ulquiorra's arms disappeared beneath Grimmjow's leather jacket, feeling every rib and taut muscle through his shirt. An eager tongue caressed Grimmjow's lower lip. Grimmjow's tongue met Ulquiorra's halfway. His hands wandered past Ulquiorra's hips, squeezing perky, firm buttocks and pressing Ulquiorra's slender hips against his lower body. Ulquiorra's cock was hard against his hip. He hadn't been leading Grimmjow on at all. They'd both been wanting and waiting for this moment.

Aching to feel him, hot and unyielding in his hand, Grimmjow fumbled with Ulquiorra's belt. Ulquiorra caught his breath as Grimmjow's lips left his and descended to his neck kissing and sucking at milky skin. Wait 'till that Orihime girl got a load of her betrothed with a big old love bite on his neck.

The door to their left flew open. Grimmjow stumbled backward into the doorframe as Ulquiorra shoved him away. Grimmjow whirled around and wanted to kill D-Roy as the short man stumbled out in bathrobe. He shot them a look. "Oh, come on, man. Use the door, it's right there!" He slammed the bathroom door.

Grimmjow caught his breath and turned back to Ulquiorra, only to find him slipping into the bedroom.

"Goodnight," Ulquiorra said, and he closed the door in Grimmjow's face.

Grimmjow gaped at the door, the warmth of Ulquiorra's body fading fast. He slumped against the door, gnashing his jaw tight. "For fuck's sake . . ."

* * *

Ulquiorra collapsed against the door, breathing hard. His lips tingled and throbbed, his cock strained against the front of his pants. He could still feel Grimmjow's arms tight around him, the warmth and strength of his body flush against his.

He closed his eyes tight and regretted slamming the door immediately. He'd wanted nothing more than to go on kissing him, but the clenching in gut reminded him that he shouldn't want Grimmjow at all. A bitter taste flooded his mouth, reminiscent of the pills he'd taken to induce nausea during his treatment.

It was wrong to want another man. While the treatments hadn't been effective, the message had gotten through very clearly. He was broken, he was disgusting. The shame crawled up into his throat until he thought he'd throw up.

"Hey, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow's voice was strangely subdued. "Let me in."

Ulquiorra shook his head. "No."

"I just wanna talk."

Ulquiorra's fingers curled around the knob. He wanted nothing more than to let Grimmjow in but if he did, he'd open the door to even more shame. He didn't know how he would feel in the morning. He feared the shame and the guilt would destroy him. And yet despite this, he relented and opened the door. He owed Grimmjow more than this.

Grimmjow entered without a word, bright blue eyes observing Ulquiorra, peeling away his armor to the doubts that writhed below the surface. "Should we just . . . not be doing this? What the hell am I kidding, of course we shouldn't. You're engaged, or gonna be engaged soon."

It was a bad idea, in every sense. It would only lead to complications. There would come a point when Ulquiorra would have to choose between his own happiness and obligations to his father and to the business. For so long, he thought he knew what he'd choose, but that was until Grimmjow entered the picture and dared him to fight for himself.

"It is stupid," Ulquiorra said. "You know this can't end well, for either of us."

"So what's wrong with just enjoying it while it lasts? Do you want to stop?"

Ulquiorra found himself torn. Grimmjow came and sat on the bed beside him. "I've been taught that everything I feel for you is wrong. I want to continue what we started, but—"

"Ulquiorra, slow down. You just told me what you want. Who gives a damn what people think? This is between you, me, and the walls." Grimmjow grasped his hand, weaving his fingers through Ulquiorra's. He squeezed tight. "So, forget what you should or shouldn't be doing, forget what other people want from you, and just tell me what you want."

_You. I want you._

Even knowing there could be no future between them, Ulquiorra wanted Grimmjow here and now, for however long it lasted.

Ulquiorra shifted closer, until their shoulders touched. His hand shifted from Grimmjow's hand to his thigh. He swallowed, his stomach doing flips as he leaned closer, until Grimmjow's scent chased away the stuffy smell of the bedroom. Warm lips claimed his and Ulquiorra's hesitance crumbled. He was so tired of feeling ashamed, and denying himself what he wanted most.

Grimmjow nipped at his lower lip, large, warm hands ascended to Ulquiorra's shoulders, pawing at his shirt. Ulquiorra's hands trembled as they fumbled with the buttons. Grimmjow's hands covered his, loosening one button after another. Grimmjow's fingers crept across his bare skin, squeezing his pectorals, pinching his nipples until he had Ulquiorra leaning into his touch. A hot, eager mouth ravished his neck with hungry kisses, lips parted to taste his skin.

As the blood flowed south, tightening the front of his pants, Ulquiorra's breath came shorter and faster. He wanted Grimmjow's mouth all over him. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't let him do. Grimmjow pushed him down against the mattress and peeled his tee shirt over his head. Ulquiorra's cock throbbed at the sight of his body, powerful and beautiful, painted with vivid colors and bold imagery from dragons to demons, to koi and cherry blossom petals cascading down his skin.

Grimmjow's lips quirked as Ulquiorra's eyes combed him over. "There's more tattoos. You can see all of 'em, if you want."

Ulquiorra nodded breathlessly.

Eyes glinting, Grimmjow loosened his belt and let it ripple to the floor. He tugged his jeans down and Ulquiorra followed the trail of tattoos that spiraled down his legs. Black briefs hugged the swell of his cock. Ulquiorra wanted to see what other works of art those briefs concealed.

Grimmjow hooked his fingers in the waistline of his briefs, working them down over his sharp hips, and they pooled at his feet. Ulquiorra swallowed at the sight of him, thick and long, curling up toward his toned stomach.

"Beautiful," Ulquiorra whispered, admiring the tattoos on his hips.

Grimmjow did a turn, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling to show off the panther roaring on his back. Ulquiorra was stunned by the level of detail, from the cornflower blue of the panther's eyes to the cherry blossom petals raining down around the panther. His eyes wandered, wetting his lips at the sight of tight, sculpted buttocks.

"Like it? That was the first one I had done."

"Why a panther?" Ulquiorra asked.

"'Cause they're cool as hell, why else?" Grimmjow wore a grin when he turned back to Ulquiorra. He draped a knee across the bed and leaned down, claiming Ulquiorra's lips.

"I have to ask; you aren't with the yakuza, are you?"

Grimmjow went taut against Ulquiorra. "I was, long time ago. After I left home. I did a lot of dumb shit as a teen."

"But you aren't anymore?"

Grimmjow met his gaze. "That's part of my past now."

Ulquiorra couldn't help feeling relieved. His hands fumbled for broad shoulders, fingers looping around the back of his neck.

"Touch me," Grimmjow whispered, his breath scorching Ulquiorra's lips.

Heart pounding, Ulquiorra's hands wandered, feeling every muscle, basking in the raw power of his body. But as his hands neared Grimmjow's hips, he found himself locking up. He wanted to wrap his fingers around him, taste him. As soon as the thoughts entered his head, Ulquiorra repelled them, half expected to feel a shock in his hands. To be punished.

"What's up?" Grimmjow's electric blue eyes didn't miss a beat.

"Nothing." Ulquiorra didn't want to ruin the mood.

"Ulquiorra, tell me."

"I want to, but—"

"What do you wanna do? I wanna hear it."

Lips sipped at the shell of his ear and made Ulquiorra squirm. He hadn't realized his ears were ticklish until now. Closing his eyes and focusing on the sensation, he murmured, "I want to touch you." He wanted to feel the heat and hardness of him in his fist, he wanted Grimmjow completely at his mercy, bucking like a stallion into his fist.

"Then do it." Grimmjow nipped at his ear. His voice was low and breathy with need.

Ulquiorra traced the jut of his hipbone, feeling his way down until his fingers curled in a soft patch of hair. The voice came at him from the back of his mind.

_You shouldn't want this. It's wrong. You're an abomination, you're a freak._

Then he heard it, the strangle gasp as he curled his fingers around Grimmjow's engorged flesh. Grimmjow rolled his hips, sinking deeper into Ulquiorra's touch. Ulquiorra opened his eyes and found Grimmjow's eyes dark and lidded, supple lower lip clasped between his teeth. It was hypnotic. Desire left him breathless, gave him a high he never anticipated just knowing he was the one to make Grimmjow look so vulnerable in his pleasure.

Nothing else mattered, only that Grimmjow was hard in his hand, desperate for relief only Ulquiorra could give him. His fingers tangled in the locks of hair at the base of Grimmjow's neck and tugged. Grimmjow devoured his lips in a kiss that was equal parts teeth and tongue, hands clambering about his body as if he just couldn't get enough of him.

Ulquiorra scooted back so Grimmjow could join him on the bed. Next thing he knew, his clothes had scattered to all corners of the room. All the breath escaped him as Grimmjow fisted his cock, stroking him in swift, tight motions until all Ulquiorra could do was thrust into his fist with abandon.

Ulquiorra could hardly believe that the whimpers spilling from his lips were his own shameless moans and in his embarrassment, he buried his face in Grimmjow's neck. Grimmjow chuckled against his neck. He clasped Ulquiorra's hand and guided him closer, until their cocks rubbed together with every frantic stroke.

The pleasure left him reeling, biting down on his lower lip to stifle himself. His toes curled, his legs trembled. He never imagined it could be so good.

Grimmjow's breath came faster against Ulquiorra's neck. "Fuck. Oh, fuck. So good, Ulqui. More, don't stop. Come on." Ulquiorra had never heard his voice so desperate and weak.

Then it was upon him, an eruption so intense all he could do was cling to Grimmjow as his knees went weak and he collapsed into his arms. Grimmjow was seconds behind him with a strangled cry, plowing his hips into Ulquiorra's hand as powerful shudders wracked his body. His release spattered thick and warm against Ulquiorra's stomach.

Grimmjow's weight came crashing down on him and Ulquiorra fell against the mattress. Blanketed by Grimmjow's warm, strong body, Ulquiorra closed his eyes and let his breath come rushing back to him. His muscles ached, everywhere tingled and throbbed in only the most blissful way.

Grimmjow's breath puffed against his neck, his arms held Ulquiorra tight and close. "Holy fuck," he whispered, voice worn and hoarse.

Ulquiorra huffed laughter, eyes struggling to stay open as exhaustion closed in on him. "An understatement."

"You think?" Grimmjow leaned their foreheads together, tired but beautiful smile lighting up his face. Those four stubborn locks of hair clung to his forehead, and Ulquiorra couldn't resist reaching out to sweep them away from his face.

Grimmjow slumped, covering Ulquiorra's mouth with his. They lay there for a time, basking in the afterglow.

"Shit. It's late," Grimmjow grunted, peering over Ulquiorra at the digital clock on the end table. It was past one in the morning.

Ulquiorra sighed. He'd need to be up in only hours to return home.

Home. Where his father would no doubt demand an explanation of where he'd been all night, where his obligations would no longer be put on hold. Ulquiorra squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could stay in this moment for just a while longer before the real world came crashing back to him.

"What's up? Your face is all pinched." Grimmjow frowned down at him, poking Ulquiorra's cheek.

"Nothing. We should get some sleep."

"Yeah. Right."

Grimmjow didn't move away. He lingered above Ulquiorra, something strange and unreadable in his eyes as his fingers wandered, tracing circles on his chest. Ulquiorra held himself back from asking Grimmjow if he wanted to stay. Their actions tonight had left them in an uncertain place. He feared asking him to stay, no matter how badly he wanted to, would only make things more confusing.

Grimmjow rolled off him and collapsed onto his back. "Better go, then." He glanced at Ulquiorra, as if waiting for something.

"Of course." Ulquiorra forced himself to give him a tiny smile.

Grimmjow nodded. He untangled himself from the sheets and gathered his clothes, tugging on his briefs. He ambled to the door and clasped the knob. He looked back. "'Night. Don't oversleep, we can ride my bike back to the villa."

"Sounds good. Goodnight."

Grimmjow offered a tired smile before he stepped out. The door closed behind him. Ulquiorra dropped into the mattress. The bed felt vast and cold, the quiet rang in his ears. Had Grimmjow wanted to stay? Was he disappointed with Ulquiorra for not asking him to stay?

Ulquiorra dropped his arm over his eyes.

He had a horrible feeling they'd done something very stupid, and irreversible.

* * *

Ulquiorra woke with something heavy deep in his chest. The sheets smelled of sweat and sex. The evidence of what he'd done the previous night was crusted on his chest. He showered and scrubbed himself clean, but what they'd done the previous night lingered in the soreness of his thighs and lower legs.

He went around the room, picking up his scattered clothes. He hesitated at the door. What would he say when he saw Grimmjow? Would they carry on as if nothing had happened? Did he want what they'd done to be forgotten so easily?

His cellphone rang in his back pocket. He had several missed calls from his father. It was too early to call, so Ulquiorra texted him to explain—explain what? How did he explain his absence? He would speak to him when he got home.

He eased open the door. Golden sunlight splashed against the walls, illuminating the sitting room where a burst of bright blue made Ulquiorra's heart jump into his throat. Grimmjow sat at the table, polishing off some cereal. His hair was tousled and damp from his shower. Ulquiorra recalled the softness of that hair between his fingers, the sounds Grimmjow made when he came.

Something in his stomach churned guiltily.

"Yo. Finally up?" Grimmjow's low voice drew him from his thoughts. "Are you hungry? Let's eat and go find my bike. We've gotta be at the villa in an hour."

"You can go ahead." Ulquiorra couldn't get on that bike with him. He couldn't put his arms around him and hold him close. The spell that had come over them last night was lifting, and now Ulquiorra could see clearly.

Grimmjow's brow furrowed. "Why? You're here, might as well go together."

"If people see us arriving together, they'll ask questions. I'm already in hot water with my father. I don't need any more reasons for him to be disappointed in me."

Grimmjow's eyes widened, he inhaled sharply. He looked away, lips thin in his anger. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

Ulquiorra couldn't move. He wanted to apologize, but with every passing second, he felt less and less worthy of him. They never should have slept together. He'd been irresponsible to entertain even an illusion of a future between them.

Ulquiorra rode the train to the villa. He kept his head down but his skin prickled relentlessly, and he had to fight the urge to look around the train. It was as if what they'd done last night was written everywhere Grimmjow had touched and kissed him.

He'd kissed another man, seen him naked, and climaxed with him. They should have woken up together, happy and content. Instead, guilt and shame threatened to consume the happiness he'd found the other night when he lay in Grimmjow's arms. What had he been expecting, that one night with a man would be enough to fix what was damaged in him? He was beyond fixing. Grimmjow deserved someone who wasn't ashamed to be with him. Ulquiorra wouldn't be the one to stifle his fearlessness.

Ulquiorra walked the road to the villa. Rain turned the dirt trail to mud. The road was quiet save for the gentle spatter of rain through the trees. He buzzed the front gate and was let in. He jumped the stairs into the villa and found his father waiting in the sitting room. Aizen fixed him with a stare that would have made Antarctic warmer by comparison. He tossed his newspaper on the coffee table and stood. "Explain yourself."

Ulquiorra had no explanation.

"You were gone all day. You missed our conference call. You wouldn't answer any of my calls. Explain yourself, now."

"I was with Orihime."

His father's nostrils flared. "You expect me to believe that when you've neglected all of the women who've come before her."

Orihime would cover for him, he knew it. "You can ask her. She loves a particular ice cream shop, so we made a day of it."

Cold brown eyes glared into his soul. "Really?"

"Yes. I'm quite taken with her, Father. We were friends for a long time. It only makes sense for our relationship to swing in this direction."

"But you didn't propose to her?"

". . . No. Not yet."

Aizen sniffed, polishing his glasses. "Still. You have responsibilities, Ulquiorra. You're not a child."

"I'm sorry." He bowed once more.

"Stand up. It's fine. We were all young once, even myself. Since you're so taken with her, why don't you invite her over tonight? I'm throwing you a birthday party."

Ulquiorra thought he'd misheard. "A party?"

"It's your thirtieth birthday. It's a cause for celebration. I'll invite our staff, partners and their families."

In truth, Ulquiorra had almost forgotten his own birthday. Birthdays weren't a big deal in the Sousuke family. In all his thirty years, his father had never thrown him a party before, and he'd never seen his father celebrate his own birthday. He couldn't help feeling highly suspicious.

* * *

When the door closed after Ulquiorra, Grimmjow's frustration boiled over. He slumped over the table, his face in his arm.

"Fuck . . ."

He should have known Ulquiorra would retreat into himself and leave him asking what he'd done wrong. Grimmjow didn't know what he'd been expecting from their night together. All he knew was that in the moment, he wanted Ulquiorra more than he'd ever wanted anyone else, and that was all that mattered to him.

_Serves me right for thinking with my dick._

They'd crossed a line. There was no way their relationship could continue past this point if they wanted to add sex into their confusing relationship. And the crazy part was, if Ulquiorra asked to just stay friends, Grimmjow thought he'd agree in a heartbeat if it meant he could continue to see these exciting new sides to Ulquiorra's personality. The parts of him that were fun-loving, gentle and sassy, adventurous and daring.

Somewhere along the line, he'd come to care about Ulquiorra. He couldn't pinpoint when or how. It had just happened.

_So there's my decision, and I'm okay with it. Not surprising. I don't do love or relationships. It was just sexual attraction all along._

He should have felt relieved. He did, in a way. He didn't want to stop seeing Ulquiorra. But every time he recalled those slender arms around him, those desperate whimpers and moans in his ear, and the feel of him in his hand, something in his chest ached in protest.

_It was hot. Not gonna lie. So fucking hot._

Desire simmered between his thighs just recalling the sounds he'd made when he climaxed, thick and hot between his fingers. Ulquiorra's breathe hot against his lips, his breathless gasps as they worked one another's cocks. Fuck. He'd never come so hard.

_Just beat off. It's not like you can't have that with anyone else._

There'd been something different about last night. He'd been thrilled when Ulquiorra let him in, when the walls he'd built around himself came down and he'd allowed Grimmjow to see him at his most vulnerable. He could have gotten off on Ulquiorra's reactions alone to his every touch. He'd genuinely wanted Ulquiorra to enjoy himself, to make him understand just what he'd been missing.

He hadn't wanted him to be ashamed of himself or his desires. But clearly he hadn't been successful. If anything, last night had driven them apart.

_It's not my job to fix him. Hell, I don't think I could if I tried. That's his problem. He's gotta be the one to solve it._

But he'd wanted to try.

His phone rang, shattering the silence. Grimmjow jolted out of his stupor and scowled when he realized who it was.

"Hey, Nnoitra."

_Oh, shit._

"Jaegerjaquez! How are you? I've let Szayel know just how disappointed I was with his actions. Took a while. He went into hiding, but I sniffed him out."

"Is he dead?" Grimmjow held his breath. Elforte would be devastated if he lost his brother.

"No, but he wishes he was, I'm sure. I took off the tip of his finger, so now everyone knows what a fuckup he is. At his point, he's gonna have to suck my cock to earn any favor with me. How're your injuries?"

"Healing. I've got PT every week for a while, but it coulda been worse."

"And the job is still on. You find anything on Sousuke yet?"

Grimmjow's stomach squirmed. "I'm close."

Nnoitra growled. "This shit with Szayel's got me on edge, Jaegerjaquez. Hurry it up, and whatever you do, no more mistakes like Szayel. Got it?"

"What do you think I am, stupid? I got this. I gotta go, I need to be at the villa soon."

Grimmjow tossed his phone onto the couch and scowled, leaning back in his chair.

"I ain't cut out for this anymore . . ."

_Remember the deal. First lieutenant._

D-Roy stumbled out of the bedroom, his hair a mess.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Grimmjow downed the last of his cereal.

D-Roy dropped into a chair and dumped cereal in his bowl. Grimmjow glowered into his bowl. Eating breakfast with D-Roy felt like torture after his night with Ulquiorra.

"Where's your boyfriend?" D-Roy asked.

Grimmjow's brow twitched. "Not my boyfriend, and he left."

"Don't seem too happy about it." D-Roy waggled his brow, an infuriating smirk on his face. "Grimmy-boy finally met his match? The one man he can never have, but so desperately wants."

"That bowl's gonna end up on your head," Grimmjow growled.

_What's the point in getting defensive? It's true; I could never have him. I've known this from the start. Don't get pissed off now 'cause you were proven right._

Something ached inside him. Grimmjow threw his spoon in the bowl and dropped both in the sink.

Grimmjow returned to his bike and rode it to the villa. His stomach was in knots. He looked around the house as he entered, but couldn't see Ulquiorra anywhere. Had he made it home safely? Was he in a good headspace?

"Yo, Blueberry!" It was Renji.

"Pineapple," Grimmjow grunted. Renji's spiky ponytail resembled a red pineapple.

"What's eating you? You're all broody—well, brood _ier_." Renji slapped him on the back as he walked into the kitchen. "You're late, as usual, so you totally missed the announcement; Aizen's throwing a party for Ulquiorra. It's his thirtieth birthday."

Grimmjow almost dropped the armful of plates he removed from the dishwasher. "Really?"

"Yeah, he's inviting tons of people. There'll be loads of food, live music, drinks galore. It'll be awesome."

_He didn't tell me it was his birthday, not yesterday._

Grimmjow itched to go to him, but the chef kept them busy washing dishes, chopping ingredients, and manning the stove. Finally, Grimmjow went on lunch break and seized the opportunity to go in search of Ulquiorra.

Raindrops scattered from the grass as he strode onto the lawn. Gray skies promised that the rain's reprieve was only temporary. His breath hitched when he caught sight of Ulquiorra walking through the gate, a small box under his arm. Their eyes met and Ulquiorra faltered in his strides. Before Grimmjow could give him as much as a smile, Ulquiorra looked away and walked around him toward the stairs. Hurt lashed him. "Wait." He seized the hem of Ulquiorra's jacket as he passed. "I wanna talk to you."

"Upstairs, in the study." Ulquiorra stepped out of his reach. Those quiet words brought a surge of hope. Perhaps they hadn't ruined things between them after all.

Grimmjow waited until the front door closed, then he trailed behind Ulquiorra and up the stairs, taking the first door on the right. He found Ulquiorra in a quiet corner behind a wall of bookshelves, looking out over the rain washed courtyard. Grimmjow swallowed. In the gray light, shadows of the rain on the window reflecting on his face, he looked devastatingly beautiful.

Ulquiorra turned toward him, waiting.

Grimmjow cleared his throat, realizing he hadn't come prepared. He always jumped head-on into things without a second thought, but when it came to Ulquiorra, it was harder and harder to be sure of himself. "You're pissed at me. Aren't you?"

"At myself, yes. Not at you."

Grimmjow wasn't satisfied with that answer, either. He took a seat on the windowsill. "If I'd known you'd regret it—"

"I enjoyed every second. The guilt . . . it's to be expected. I was taught—well, we know what I was taught. One night isn't going to change that."

Grimmjow slumped over, unable to suppress a laugh.

"What?"

"I thought you hated me," Grimmjow admitted, grinning in his relief.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Ulquiorra's lips. "But it can't happen again. You know that, don't you?" The solemn look in Ulquiorra's eyes made it hard for Grimmjow to muster his own agreement. He'd expected this, told himself he was fine with this outcome so long as they stayed friends, but—

"It's fine." He tried to smile, but his lips were too heavy to hold it.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I should have known better. If I misled you—"

_Stop it. Stop being considerate. Stop being nice. Stop acting like you care about me._

"Relax, Ulquiorra. You're overthinking things. It's not like we're together or anything. I don't do relationships, anyway, so this works fine with me." The words sounded hollow to his own ears, as if they weren't his at all.

Ulquiorra tipped his head, expression as unreadable as always as he stared into his lap. "That's good, then."

Grimmjow's stomach churned over.

_Shit. Was that not what he wanted to hear? But why wouldn't it be?_

"So, we can stay friends, then?" Ulquiorra looked to him, something apprehensive in his voice.

"We're friends?" Grimmjow grinned for real this time, quirking a brow. He'd never met someone he could truly call friend. He liked Elforte and D-Roy, but he couldn't say he knew them all that well. Shawlong was more of a father figure to him. But Ulquiorra was different.

"That's how I see you." Ulquiorra suddenly looked away, fidgeting in his seat. "Or was I mistaken? I understand if last night makes it too difficult." He wrung his fingers together in his lap.

Grimmjow's fingers twitched. Hell, Ulquiorra was cute when he was nervous. He closed the distance in swift strides and tangled his fingers in Ulquiorra's hair. "Yes, stupid, we are. Trust me, if I didn't like you, I wouldn't be here."

"Of course not." He batted Grimmjow's hand away and straightened out his hair. Grimmjow twirling a strand between his fingers, the back of his knuckles tracing the shape of an angular jaw.

_This is better than I hoped for. It's what I wanted._

His eyes wandered to Ulquiorra's lips, recalling the taste of him, the passion he'd revealed behind that stoic mask.

_It's just lust. It'll go away._

"So, big night tonight, huh, Birthday Boy?"

Ulquiorra sighed and reclined out of his reach. "How dreadful."

Grimmjow scoffed. "Only you could be depressed about your birthday. Come on! Cake, booze, free shit, what's not to like?"

"It's highly unusual. My father has never celebrated my birthday—"

Grimmjow gaped. "What?"

"—and I can't understand why he should change that now even if I am turning thirty."

"Hold up. You've never celebrated your birthday? Ever?"

"No. Sometimes if we aren't too busy, we'll have dinner."

"That doesn't count. Is there cake, presents, beer, wine? Anything?"

"My father always assumed I had everything I could possibly need already, which is true. So, no presents."

"Tell me you had cake."

"My father doesn't like sugar, and I'm not fond of it, either." Ulquiorra's mouth twitched. "You look ready to combust."

"That's 'cause I'm in a fucking rage! That's not a birthday, Ulquiorra!" This man was the most depressing person Grimmjow knew.

_My parents may have turned out pretty shitty, but at least they celebrated my birthday!_

Seething, Grimmjow turned and stomped out of the room. "Doesn't like sugar, like that's an excuse!"

He was rectifying this. Today!


	10. Chapter 10

The guests would arrive at six o'clock. In the meantime, the Sousuke household buzzed with activity. Several bouquets of balloons arrived and were strung to the banisters outside the front door. The maids ran around, cleaning each room until it sparkled. The kitchen readied the finest china and prepared dish after dish of luxurious meals from wagyu beef to horse meat to pufferfish.

Aizen also ordered a tiered cake from a renowned bakery. Ulquiorra watched the drivers unload it from the van; it was a three man job considering it was about the size of Ulquiorra himself.

Orihime arrived, wearing a sparkling pink gown and a cream-colored scarf. "Ulquiorra-kun! Happy Birthday!" She threw her arms around him. "I can't believe we're getting so old." She sniffed.

"You're only twenty-five."

"Twenty-three!" She pouted.

Ulquiorra chuckled. "Of course."

"I made you a present."

" _Made_ me?"

Nodding excitedly, she reached into her bag. "I've taken up knitting in my spare time. I made you a scarf!"

Ulquiorra almost recoiled at the noxious green color of the scarf. It itched his hands just holding it. "Thank you. I'll treasure it." In his closet, for the rest of his days.

"I'm so excited. Your first real birthday party! I kept telling you to do this sooner."

Ulquiorra didn't understand the fuss. So, he was born: it's not like he cured cancer. "There are more worthy things we could be celebrating right now."

"Oh, shush. You're such a downer, Ulquiorra-kun." Orihime wagged a finger at him. She went silent. "Who's that?" Ulquiorra looked across the courtyard. Grimmjow marched his bike across the yard, a box under his arm. He was glaring daggers at Orihime, the ugliest look on his face Ulquiorra had ever seen.

"No one." He worried for her safety if he didn't get her out of Grimmjow's sight right now. He didn't understand. Grimmjow had seemed happy to just stay friends. Too happy. Relieved, actually.

_And so what? Isn't that what you wanted?_

"I've never seen your home so festive," Orihime gasped as they entered, marveling at the blue and white balloons. "You booked a live band, too?" She swooned at the sight of the musicians, tuning their instruments.

"My father spared no expense. I just wish I could understand why."

Orihime put both fingers at each corner of his mouth and lifted his lips into a smile. "I think it's great. You deserve to be celebrated."

She took his arm and they walked past the kitchen. Orihime suddenly stopped. "Oh . . . is that—no way!" her hand covered her mouth. Ulquiorra followed her stare. Their newest hireling was chopping an onion. He had flaming orange hair and a scowling yet handsome face, not unlike Grimmjow's.

_What is it with this kitchen staff and their unusual hair colors?_

"Ulquiorra-kun, that's Ichigo Kurosaki. We went to high school together," Orihime whispered, her eyes sparkling. "I had such a crush on him. Can I say hello?"

"Kurosaki," Ulquiorra called. Orihime squeaked, turning red up to her ears.

Ichigo blanched, shuffling over. "What's up, boss? Look, Renji told me to add the onion. I kept telling him it didn't sound right, so—" He went quiet at the sight of Orihime, brows furrowing even more as he struggled to remember.

"This is Orihime Inoue. She seems to believe she knows you."

Ichigo's jaw dropped. "Inoue! For real? I didn't recognize you!"

Orihime smiled radiantly. "How could I forget that orange hair? You haven't change a bit." She giggled.

"I remember you! You were Tatsuki's friend, of course! Sorry, I'm terrible with names and faces."

"I love Tatsuki-chan!"

"She's great. Have you heard from her?"

"We still talk all the time! She's a taekwondo teacher."

Ichigo laughed. "Yeah, that sounds like Tatsuki."

Ulquiorra cleared his throat. "I'll let you catch up." He was already forgotten as Orihime and Ichigo slipped into their own little world of high school memories. Orihime clutched his arm and smiled, her eyes all aglow. "Thank you, Ulquiorra-kun! I owe you a life debt!"

A hand latched onto his shoulder. Ulquiorra turned and found himself staring up in Grimmjow's face. The only thing that spoke louder than his murderous scowl was the fury blazing in his eyes. "Ulquiorra," he said through clenched teeth, stressing every syllable. "I wanna talk upstairs. Now."

Ulquiorra brushed his hand away. "Certainly. I'll be upstairs if anyone needs me."

"If you aren't back in an hour, should we call the police?" Orihime whispered.

Ulquiorra scoffed. Grimmjow walked stiffly beside him, fingers trembling as he squeezed the rectangular shape in the plastic bag he carried.

"Will my room suffice?"

Grimmjow grunted approval. Ulquiorra held the door for him and flicked on the lamp. Ulquiorra's master bed and bath had recently been cleaned, the sheets laundered and the pillows fluffed. Aside from the bed-bath, he also had a terrace and a table for two. Murcielago barked and sniffed eagerly at the bag Grimmjow carried. Grimmjow shooed him. "Sit down or something. I'll be a minute." Without an explanation, he ducked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Ulquiorra shook his head. Grimmjow truly operated in mysterious ways. He thought they'd said all they needed to say in the study. His stomach churned uneasily. A small box on the dresser caught his eye. It had arrived today, addressed from his mother.

He opened the terrace door. The rain had stopped and glistened on the table. He swept copious amounts of water off the table and patted it dry. Once he was seated, he opened the box and found a pile of letters stacked one on the other. At the top of the pile was a letter written on today's date.

Smiling curiously, he opened the letter.

_My darling son,_

_Happy Birthday! Not a year went by when I didn't stop and think about you on your birthday. Each year on this special day, I'd write you a letter I'd never send, convinced it would do more harm than good. If you were happy in your new life, then I didn't want to cause any undue pain by bringing up the past. The joy your visit brought me is insurmountable. I pray we can make up for lost time. It's my greatest wish to see you happy, whatever that might mean for you; in your job, in your marriage, with any children you might have._

_Love,  
Amelia_

There were exactly thirty letters within the box. In each of them, she expressed similar sentiments and wished him happiness even if she wasn't a part of his life. Every year, his birthday was nothing but a painful reminder that he'd been unwanted by the woman who'd given birth to him. He had no cause to celebrate. But even on his loneliest day, his mother had been secretly thinking of him, loving him from afar and wishing him happiness.

He'd never been alone. Never once had he been unwanted.

"Happy Birthday to you,"

Ulquiorra jumped, wiping at his eyes. Grimmjow emerged from the bathroom, carrying a miniature two-layer cake smothered in white frosting. Candlelight sparkled in Grimmjow's eyes and cast flickering golden light across the walls.

"Happy Birthday, dear Ulquiorra, Happy Birthday to you!" Grimmjow set the cake down before him.

"Grimmjow, this is—" Ulquiorra would never have expected this from him.

"Awesome, I know. I'm the king of grand gestures. Your old man ain't got nothing on me."

Ulquiorra laughed, looking at him in astonishment. "Must everything be a competition to you?"

"What about the Princess? She ever make a cake?" Grimmjow asked, his stare growing more intense by the second.

"Once, when we were children. She made me a mud cake in the playground."

The smuggest grin cracked Grimmjow's face in two. "A mud cake! Well, looks like I'm number one."

"Sit down." Ulquiorra tugged him into the seat opposite him and blew out his candles. Grimmjow cut the cake in half and gave one half to Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra's stomach churned just imagining all that sugar. "That's too big."

"It'll make up for all the cake you missed," Grimmjow argued, digging into his half.

Ulquiorra took a bite. The icing was light and fluffy, subtly sweet while the cake was soft and moist, practically melting in his mouth. It wasn't obnoxiously sweet, but he couldn't imagine eating all of it. Grimmjow swan-dove into his cake, shoveling it into his mouth. The man deliberately missed his mouth, smearing icing all over his cheek.

"Oh, shit. Almost forgot. I got you a present, too." Grimmjow sucked some icing off his thumb and wiped his sticky hands on his pants. He retrieved a wrapped gift from a paper bag next to his chair.

Ulquiorra was speechless. It was enough for Grimmjow to get him a cake, but a present?

Grimmjow tossed it across the table. It was a tiny box, feather-light in Ulquiorra's hand. "You got me jewelry?"

"Open it!" Grimmjow snapped. "Fuckin' hate it when people do that. Just open it and see."

"Calm down." Ulquiorra unwrapped the box. Inside was a diamond-studded panther brooch, speckled with sapphires and emeralds, and there was something on the back. Ulquiorra turned it over gently, careful not to drop it.

_You're worth more than this pin, and that's saying a lot. Don't forget it. – G.J._

To the point, no sugar coating. It was so Grimmjow, and it made his stomach flutter.

"I'm not tryin' to compete with your mom, or anything. But panthers are cool, case closed—and I liked the emeralds and the sapphires, 'cause you know." It matched both their eye colors. Grimmjow squirmed. "And I know it's similar to something you already have, so it's kinda unoriginal, actually. But I just figured, you've already got something from someone who really cares about you. Couldn't hurt to add another to the collection."

Grimmjow couldn't meet his gaze. He kept fidgeting, and his ears were red. He shot Ulquiorra a look, then another. "So, what? Do you like it? I guess if you don't you could always exchange it."

An indescribable feeling possessed Ulquiorra as watched Grimmjow, always so cocky and confident, having a crisis over his feelings. For so long, he'd thought that if only one person could tell him they cared, it would make all the difference in the world. Now, he had not one but three people who cared for him. There wasn't a thing Ulquiorra wouldn't do for them.

Grimmjow stopped his rambling as Ulquiorra's fingertips settled on his cheek, inches from his lips. Ulquiorra wiped at a glob of icing with his thumb. Words couldn't come close to describe what this meant to him, what Grimmjow meant to him.

"You should know, no one's ever told me this before. So, if I'm speechless, that's why."

An infectious grin lit up Grimmjow's face, his eyes found Ulquiorra's and lingered there. "I'm glad I'm the first." Sapphire eyes strayed, gazing at his lips.

Ulquiorra's chair rocked back as he leaned across the table. He closed his eyes as his lips covered Grimmjow's. His lips were sweet, lightly sticky, and he couldn't resist tonguing his lower lip, craving more of the sugar on his lips. Grimmjow leaned into his kiss with a low moan that set Ulquiorra's blood simmering. A warm hand weaved through his hair—and left behind a clump of something.

"Shit!" Grimmjow pulled back with a burst of laughter, withdrawing his sticky fingers.

"Really?" Ulquiorra murmured, lips brushing against Grimmjow's. "You have a fork, use it." He leaned back in and Grimmjow attacked, thrusting a handful of cake into Ulquiorra's face. Grimmjow doubled over the table, laughing.

Ulquiorra couldn't resist; he scooped up a handful of cake and mashed it into Grimmjow's hair.

Grimmjow recoiled with a shriek. "You son of a—" He picked up his plate and hurled it at Ulquiorra's face. He missed, spattering cake across Ulquiorra's suit. Ulquiorra looked in horror from his ruined clothes to Grimmjow.

"Ulquiorra, I swear, I didn't—"

Ulquiorra picked up his plate and charged at him. He took aim and fired, smearing Grimmjow's shirt with clumps of cake. Laughter poured rich and warm from his lips, an alien sound to his own ears. Grimmjow tackled him, wrestled him up against the veranda doors.

"You are such a child," Ulquiorra panted, ribs sore from mirth.

"Shut up," Grimmjow growled, voice low and breathless as he claimed Ulquiorra's lips in a sticky, sweet kiss. He had frosting on his nose and was careful to smear it across Ulquiorra's cheek between kisses.

Ulquiorra's fingers curled in his jacket, urging him closer.

_I'm happy. So happy, for the first time in my life—and it's because of this man._

How could anyone ask him to be ashamed of someone who made him feel so wanted and loved? A life devoid of the warmth Grimmjow had brought into his world wasn't a life he wanted any part of.

Beyond the veranda, there came a knock at the door. "Cifer-san, the guests are here! Your father wants to speak with you."

Ulquiorra untangled himself from Grimmjow, immediately missing his warmth.

"You don't gotta go. Stay," Grimmjow pawed at him, urging him close.

"I do." Ulquiorra turned away, feeling as if he left a piece of himself with Grimmjow. "We can continue this later," He assured him, reaching back to clasp Grimmjow's hand.

Grimmjow squared his jaw, eyes combing over Ulquiorra's form, peeling away each article of clothing with his eyes. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

With a shiver, Ulquiorra hurried into the bathroom to change and clean up. He clasped the counter for support, wiping away a smear of frosting. The panther pin glittered on his jacket. He covered it with his hand.

In a perfect world, he would have both the company and Grimmjow and not have to choose. He would have to make his choice soon and while his awakened heart longed for Grimmjow, his mind knew the difference between fantasy and reality.

His phone vibrated.

**Aizen: Come and talk to me. I'll meet you on the terrace.**

Sighing to think of what his father had in store for him, Ulquiorra cleaned himself up and left the bathroom. Grimmjow was already gone. He passed through the upstairs sitting room and out onto the terrace. He wasn't alone, Orihime leaned on the railing, looking up at the stars.

He sidled up behind her. "Did my father summon you, too?"

She jumped. "I keep telling you not to sneak up on people like that, Ulquiorra-kun!" She clutched her chest. "Yes, he wanted to speak to me."

Ulquiorra slumped on the railing. "Of course." He could only imagine what about.

Orihime laughed and plucked his hair. "Is this cake?"

Ulquiorra squinted. "I thought I got it all out."

"You knew you had cake in your hair?" Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "And this is pretty, too."

Ulquiorra yanked his pin from his vest. He'd put it on without a thought.

"Who gave you that pin? It's beautiful."

"just . . . someone."

"By "someone" could you mean Grimmjow-kun?" Ulquiorra's speechlessness was all the answer she needed. "Hah! Nothing can escape Inspector Orihime's detection!" Orihime's lips quirked. "Ulquiorra-kun, you seem very happy tonight. Is it because of him?"

He couldn't lie to himself, or her. Regardless of how things may end between himself and Grimmjow, he would allow himself to savor the happiness he'd found tonight. He nodded.

Orihime put her hands over her mouth and did a happy little dance. "I'm so happy for you!" She threw her arms around him and held him tight

The veranda doors swung open. "It's lovely to see the two of you bonding." Aizen stepped out into the cold night air. "The timing couldn't be better."

The sight of Aizen chased away all the floaty, fluttery feeling in Ulquiorra's stomach, until only cold uncertainty remained. Aizen reached into his pocket and produced a velvet box. He presented it to Ulquiorra. Inside was a gold ring, fitted with a sparkling diamond.

Aizen motioned Orihime closer. All the joy had vanished from her face. "My dear, the time is right to welcome you as a daughter into this family." He stepped back into the shadows, his eyes scrutinizing Ulquiorra's every move.

With trembling hand, Ulquiorra lifted the ring from the box. He should have known, should have expected this was coming. His father never did something for nothing, not even for his son. He took Orihime's hand. Silver eyes swam with tears, her trembling lips smiled. To anyone who didn't know her, they might think she was crying tears of joy. But there was no joy in her eyes, only the realization of the life Ulquiorra had trapped her in.

"Will you," his throat tightened, the words threatened to choke him. "Orihime, will you marry me?"

She collapsed into his arms and held him tight. "Yes," she gasped, her voice resolute despite it all. Ulquiorra had never hated himself more. "I will, Ulquiorra-kun."

He slipped the ring onto her finger and held her once more before she suddenly left his arms and leaned on the balcony railing. Aizen's hand fell upon his shoulder. "Did you really think I didn't see you leaving on that man's motorbike?" His voice was cold and low with fury.

Ulquiorra squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Oh, what a fool he was.

"You will not shame the family name again. I am your father, and you will honor my demands. For the sake of the business."

"What will you do to him?" Ulquiorra couldn't keep the fear out of his voice.

"That thug is a temptation. One you will resist. He will stay as a reminder of where your loyalties lie. If you give me any reason to question, he will disappear." His claw-like grip tightened on Ulquiorra's shoulder. "When you're both ready, come and tell the guests of your engagement. I invited a journalist to cover tonight's events, I'm sure she'd be thrilled to hear the news." Though his smile was warm, all it took was a single glance in Ulquiorra's direction to make it clear that he had no choice in the matter. He departed, and the wind closed the door after him.

Orihime leaned on the railing, her shoulders trembling. At a loss for what to do, Ulquiorra came to rest beside her. Her lips trembled, tears ran down her cheeks. He raised a finger to dry her eyes. "Your makeup is smudged."

She took his hand, squeezing tight. "Please, don't look at me like that." She bowed her head, unable to look him in the eyes. "I only agreed to this to make you happy. I thought if I could help at all—but you look so sad, Ulquiorra-kun, and it's my fault. You shouldn't be with me, you should be with him."

Ulquiorra could hit himself for making her cry. He refrained from reaching out to her and looked out over the countryside, suffocated by fog.

"He's the one who will get hurt if we don't go through with this." He'd been utterly naïve to think he could go on lying to his father. He'd taken Ulquiorra's happiness and used it as a double-edged sword. "Dry your eyes and come greet everyone with me. Please. If we don't—"

He had no right to ask anything more of her, but he needed her. For Grimmjow's safety, everything had to go exactly as planned tonight. "Can you do this with me?"

She took his hand and squeezed tight. "I'm an actor, Ulquiorra-kun. They want the picture-perfect couple, that's what they'll get. Just let me fix my makeup."

* * *

Grimmjow lay in the guest bedroom, hair still wet from the shower. Just when he thought he got all the cake out, he found another clump in his hair. He snorted, unable to believe it.

_What in the hell's become of me?_

He hardly recognized himself whenever he was with Ulquiorra. The man he'd once been, living only for himself, was quickly becoming a stranger to him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. Why had he made such a grand gesture anyway? He was impulsive by nature, unaccustomed to questioning his spur of the moment excursions. If he wanted to do something he did it.

_I just wanted to make him happy. The guy's never had a birthday celebration, how could I not? So, we made out a bit, I bought him a present—like that means anything! Like I have it in me for anything deeper than that. Get real. That's not me. This is lust masquerading as—whatever this is._

He thought he'd known where they stood this afternoon, then Ulquiorra went and kissed him on the balcony and upended everything. He'd never known it was possible to be kissed so tenderly, never expected that anyone might—

With a growl, Grimmjow swung his legs out of bed and left the room, following the sound of cheering from the great room.

_It's lust. Anyone could touch me like that and it wouldn't be any different._

Hadn't he learned from Kenta? From Oliver? From his parents? After all the heartache they'd brought him, he was broken, incapable of loving or being loved.

He rounded the corner into the great room where he found himself quickly trapped in a throng of well-dressed snobs. On the landing above, Aizen leaned over the railing. Beside him stood Ulquiorra and Orihime. Grimmjow was oblivious to anyone but Ulquiorra, fixating on the way his hand clutched Orihime slender arm.

"Everyone, thank you for joining me in the celebration of my son Ulquiorra's thirtieth birthday." The crowd clapped, raising champagne glasses in Ulquiorra's name. "My son has some wonderful news he'd like to share with you all."

Cameras flashed as Ulquiorra approached he railing, Orihime by his side. Something cold and heavy dropped into the pit of Grimmjow's stomach.

"Orihime and I are engaged to be married," Ulquiorra announced.

_What?_

The deafening cheers of the crowd faded to background noise. Something closed around Grimmjow's throat, clawed into his stomach and tore him in two. Everything around him blurred into one another, except Ulquiorra as he took Orihime's chin in his hand and guided her lips to his. Cameras flashed. The image of the two of them was burned on the backs of his eyelids.

_Don't touch her like that. Don't pretend for a second you kiss her like you kissed me._

A flame roared to life deep inside him, burning him from the inside out as Ulquiorra pulled away, smiling at her as if she were all that mattered to him.

_Don't look at her like that. Stop it!_

His fingernails bit into his palms. The panther that prowled across Ulquiorra's chest was gone and in its place was the gold ring glittering on Orihime's finger. The fury evaporated and in its place was a wild desperation as those emerald eyes looked at her in warmth and love. Back on the balcony, those eyes had been for him and him alone.

_I can't take this, Ulquiorra._

The pain tore into him, throbbing deep within his chest with every second that woman spent in his arms. From her round face and innocent eyes, to her tender smile, she was pure and beautiful. Why shouldn't he want her? She was gentle and kind, a light in the darkness of his life. Everything Grimmjow wasn't. By all means, Ulquiorra should have her. She'd be far more deserving of his affection. And oh, Grimmjow loathed her for it.

_I thought I knew what I wanted, how I felt. I was a fucking moron. Was this what you wanted all along, to drive me crazy and have me questioning everything I thought I knew about myself? Because you did it, you fucking won._ _I'll admit it all right now, will that make you happy? I'll show the whole room just what kind of wreck you've made me if that's what it takes. I—_

Ever since they met, this man had him second guessing. He was done doubting how he felt and hiding behind barefaced lies. He wanted to be better, someone deserving of his love. He wouldn't settle for less. Not for Ulquiorra.

_Damn it, Ulquiorra. I'm in love with you._


	11. Chapter 11

Lights pulsed, staining the crowd the colors of the rainbow as they swayed to the deafening rhythm of the music. Grimmjow swept over the room, darting from one sexy guy to another, dancing with girls. Most of the guys in here were likely straight, but even in a regular club he could usually find a guy to take home by the end of the night, but none of them held his attention.

"Grimmy-Boy!" D-Roy waved at him from the bar. Elforte and Shawlong sat beside him. Grimmjow dropped into a seat beside them and ordered a shot of sake. He wanted something more potent than beer tonight.

"Did you just get off work?" Shawlong asked, taking a sip of his cocktail.

Grimmjow nodded and downed the shot the moment it was passed to him.

"How goes the job? Find any dirt on the royal family yet?" D-Roy asked.

"Don't wanna talk about it." Grimmjow motioned for another shot.

D-Roy and Elforte exchanged glances. "C'mon, man, we invited you out to have some Sunday fun!" D-Roy punched his shoulder.

Fun was the last thing on Grimmjow's mind.

Elforte slipped from the bar stool. "If you ladies will excuse me, that last drink went to my bladder sooner than I anticipated."

D-Roy shook Grimmjow's shoulder. "I know what you need. There's this guy who's been cruising the place for the last hour, hitting up the dudes. Check him out!" He tilted Grimmjow's chin toward a guy on the dance floor, shirtless and sweaty. He had fuckboy written all over him.

Grimmjow smacked D-Roy's hand away. "Let's just drink."

D-Roy shrugged and downed the last of his beer. He went to dance with a girl who'd been making eyes at him. Shawlong caught Grimmjow's eye and offered a smile. "Everything all right?"

Grimmjow didn't even know where to begin. He'd never felt farther from "all right."

"If you want to talk, I have all night." Shawlong sipped the last of his cocktail.

Grimmjow watched the light reflect off the still surface of the sake in his glass, changing to blue, then green. Something ached in his chest, recalling those gentle emerald eyes, the way he'd smiled at her.

"I'm in deep shit, Shawlong."

"With Nnoitra?" Shawlong's thin brows knit in concern. He ordered another cocktail.

"I could be."

"Tell me."

After his third shot, opening up was easier. Grimmjow set down his glass and coughed to clear the burning in his throat. "I've got it bad for Sousuke's son. Really fucking bad. Like "tear my heart outta my chest and stamp on it" bad."

Surprise widened Shawlong's eyes. "Really?" The corner of his mouth quirked.

Grimmjow growled and wished he hadn't said anything. "Yuck it up, but don't be mad if I punch you in the stomach."

"Not at all. I'm happy for you."

"Happy? This is bad, Shawlong! I've got a job to do. I'm dead if I don't do it, but if I do then he's never gonna forgive me."

"That is tricky," Shawlong sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

"You think? And to cap it all off, my feelings might not even matter anyway, 'cause the guy's engaged to some—some stupid fucking—" He downed another shot to combat his fury and coughed. His fingers and toes were starting to tingle, his brain too.

"If he's engaged, then there's your answer. Do the job and move on. But I suspect there's something else you're not telling me."

Grimmjow squeezed the shot glass. "He likes me, too. I know he does. Bu he's got obligations to his family, and he's made it pretty clear who he puts first—ah, fuck. Listen to me. Since when do I waste my time pining over someone who doesn't want me?" Where had his pride gone? He simply had none, not when it came to Ulquiorra.

Shawlong's hand fell on his shoulder. "I was hoping this day would come."

"Asshole."

"This is good, Grimmjow. This is what you need to leave Nnoitra once and for all. If you were any other man, I'd tell you to let the boy go and remember where your loyalty lies. But you're Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. When you set your sights on something, you're damn near unstoppable."

"Sights on what?" Elforte asked, gliding into the empty seat beside them.

"Nothing—"

"Someone's finally penetrated the fortress around his heart," Shawlong said.

"No way! Congratulations!" Elforte and Shawlong clinked their glasses together.

Grimmjow shot a seething glare at Shawlong.

"Hey, guess who's getting laid tonight—what're we toasting?" D-Roy asked, waving the bartender over.

"Nothing!" Grimmjow slapped his hand over Elforte's mouth.

"Our stray has finally fallen in love." Shawlong announced. Grimmjow's teeth clenched in his fury.

"Come on, man."

D-Roy gasped. "I knew it! I knew it was that pretty boy you had over the other night!" He cackled with laughter. He climbed on top of the barstool, cupped his hands over his mouth and hollered, "Everyone! My friend's fallen in love!" He raised his glass in a toast and the crowd around the bar cheered.

Grimmjow wanted to snap D-Roy's neck as all the faces at the bar turned in his direction and raised a glass to him.

"This is great news! So why're you so bummed out?" D-Roy asked, sloshing his beer as he sat back down. Grimmjow told them what he'd told Shawlong and watched their faces fall. "That sucks." D-Roy said.

"I'm so sorry," Elforte squeezed his shoulder. Grimmjow wriggled out of his grip. He couldn't bear the pity. He was depressed enough without others getting depressed with him.

"Look, man, maybe it's for the better, huh? C'mon, we're yakuza; we don't fall in love. Our love first and foremost goes to _Oyabun_. Our second great love is money. What's the third?" He pushed a shot of tequila down to Grimmjow. "Booze. So drink up."

"Alcohol isn't the best answer right now," Shawlong said. "You should go home and rest."

Grimmjow didn't want to sleep. He knew that the minute he closed his eyes, he'd see Ulquiorra with his arms around Orihime. He didn't want to be alone with his emotions, not right now. He just wanted to forget.

**(Party girls don't get hurt** **  
** **Can't feel anything, when will I learn** **  
** **I push it down, push it down)**

The crowd roared as the next song came on. Grimmjow took one shot, then another, until he swayed in his seat and numbness spread throughout his body. The second he downed one, D-Roy set another in front of him.

**(1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 drink** **  
** **Throw 'em back 'till I lose count)**

By the time he knocked back the next shot, the room was spinning and he felt light enough to float off the ground. Hands clambered at his back and urged him toward the dance floor. A sea of bodies pressed in on him. The smell of sweat, perfumes and aftershaves threatened to drown him. The music was too hard to resist and he swayed, stumbling into someone's arms. Male or female, it didn't matter, they pulled him close, rubbing and caressing against him.

**(I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier** **  
** **I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist** **  
** **Like it doesn't exist)**

He could remember running, the hands of a thousand people running across his body. Jumping off of somewhere high, the wind in his hair. The hands of the crowd against his back catching him as he fell, floating adrift in a sea of people. He'd never felt more alone, like he could drop dead and the party would just go on without him.

**(Help me, I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down won't open my eyes** **  
** **Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight** **  
** **On for tonight)**

* * *

Grimmjow woke to his head screaming at him. If it could talk, he imagined it would berate him for that tenth tequila shot, but his stomach beat his brain to it. Grimmjow lurched to the bathroom and collapsed over the toilet bowl, heaving until he thought he'd pass out. His stomach cramping, a horde of elephants stampeding through his head, he collapsed back in bed.

"Those fucking guys." This was the last time he let D-Roy pressure him into drinking, But after seeing Ulquiorra and that woman together, holy hell, did he need it. All the bitter feelings from last night came surging back, and without any alcohol to numb them, all he could do was curl into a ball and barricade himself under his blankets.

_The first guy I love, and he's engaged. I know how to pick 'em, don't I?_

He could hit himself for being so stupid as to develop feelings for Ulquiorra, but his stomach, his brain, and his heart were already doing that for him.

His phone rang somewhere on the floor. He dangled over the edge of the bed and fumbled in his discarded jeans. He supposed he'd kicked them off last night.

It was Nnoitra.

_Fuck me, man._

"Nnoitra, what's up?"

"Come over. Now." He hung up.

The noxious knot in his stomach expanded. He swallowed, willing himself not to be sick again. There was no way Nnoitra knew about him and Ulquiorra, it just wasn't possible. Something else must have happened but unless he knew soon, he would worry. He stumbled out of bed and threw on the same clothes he'd worn last night.

A train ride later found him standing outside Nnoitra's apartment door. Nnoitra's bodyguard gave him a curt nod as Grimmjow swept by. His stomach had crawled up into his throat by the time he knocked on the door to the office.

"Come in," came Nnoitra's gravelly voice.

Nnoitra sat behind his desk, boots propped up on the glass surface. Someone sat in the chair in front of him. Grimmjow walked around and his blood ran cold. Tesla slumped in the chair, his face streaked with blood from the bullet hole through his head. His eyes stared without seeing.

"What the fuck, Nnoitra?" Grimmjow's voice came out pinched.

"You were right about the bastard, Jaegerjaquez. He came to me just now, wanted to runaway with his wife. Can you believe it? After all the shit we've been through. He told me "I owed him" for all he'd done for me. What a crock of shit." Nnoitra's feet swung off the edge of the desk and collided into the chair. It toppled over and Tesla's body flopped to the floor, head cracking against the zebrawood.

Grimmjow gagged as the stench of the corpse's voided bowels crawled up into his nose.

"The position of first lieutenant is yours, Jaegerjaquez. As long as you get me that fucking blackmail."

Or he would end up like Tesla; dead and reeking of shit with a bullet in his brain. All he had to do was out Ulquiorra and watch him get disowned by his family and lose everything. He'd waited for this moment, the day when his power and strength was apparent to all who'd ever doubted and hurt him.

"It's been a month, Jaegerjaquez. Where's my blackmail?"

Grimmjow's jaw tightened. "I'm working on it."

"Bullshit!" Nnoitra bared his teeth in a furious snarl.

He'd always be beneath Nnoitra, a title wouldn't change that. Until the day Nnoitra died, if he said "shit," Grimmjow would have to obey. He'd known this from the start, but he thought he could tolerate it until the day Nnoitra passed the torch to him. Grimmjow was tired; tired of being lesser than, of always having to prove his worth, of not being good enough, both for his family and the syndicate.

His tolerance for bullshit had been quite high, but that was before he met Ulquiorra, before he realized what it meant to be accepted as he was, even at his worst. He couldn't do this.

A pistol cocked. Nnoitra leaned across the desk, finger wrapped around the trigger. Dread left Grimmjow paralyzed as Nnoitra rose, stepping over Tesla's corpse. He towered over Grimmjow, single eye staring without blinking. Grimmjow had never felt more like an insect, trapped between the pincers of a mantis. The pistol pressed against Grimmjow's forehead, cold as the touch of death itself.

"You think of betraying me, Jaegerjaquez, and you're dead meat." A cold smile carved Nnoitra's narrow face in two. "You think I won't do it? You're ain't special, you're a piece of a machine. Once you're dead, I'll have someone else take your place. So learn from Tesla, and don't get any big ideas."

Grimmjow grit his teeth and nodded. Anything to get him out of this office, away from the stench of death, and back to Ulquiorra.

 _No more_ , he promised himself.

From this day out, he was done with Nnoitra. He was done with bring replaceable.

* * *

Ulquiorra's nerves mounted when his call went to Grimmjow's voice mail. He hadn't seen Grimmjow since he'd gone to meet his father. He rapped his knuckles on the table and resisted the urge to text him. Grimmjow was angry with him, he had to have witnessed his proposal to Orihime. It must have been a slap in the face to him after the evening they'd spent together.

_I did it to protect you, which you would know by now if you'd just answer your phone!_

After the proposal he'd gone looking for Grimmjow but couldn't find him anywhere. The security guard claimed to have seen him riding out on his bike, and he hadn't come back. Ulquiorra splayed his fingers in his lap, curling them into fists.

Had something happened?

 _"Give me any reason to doubt, and I will make him disappear."_ The cold look in his father's eyes left no doubt to his intentions, but he'd done as he was asked. His father had no reason to punish Grimmjow so long as Ulquiorra did what was expected of him. Yet Ulquiorra feared he would worry up until the moment Grimmjow walked through the door and set his fears at ease.

Seething out a sigh, Ulquiorra snatched up his phone again and called. When the call when to voicemail, Ulquiorra bit his cheek to keep from cursing. Finally, he relented. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, you—" He took in a deep breath and willed himself to calm his nerves. "Where are you? You left without saying a word. You won't return my calls, or my messages. Your shift started an hour ago, and you're still not here. If you're angry at me, just pick up the phone and tell me. I was only doing what I felt needed to be done last night. Orihime is a friend, and she knows how I feel about . . . us. Which I would like to discuss in person if you'd just pick up the phone. Call me. Please." He ended the message before he could regret saying "please" and delete it.

Never in all his life had he met someone so infuriating. A distant rumble echoed from down the road. Ulquiorra lurched to the window and watched as Grimmjow's bike sped into the courtyard. Both angry and relieved, Ulquiorra hurried downstairs. He hadn't planned out what he would say. All he wanted was to see him. He peered over the banister at Grimmjow as the chef bit his head off for being late. He threw at apron at Grimmjow and stormed into the kitchen.

Squaring his jaw, Grimmjow tied the apron and looked up. All the fire went out of his eyes when he caught Ulquiorra watching him. In all the time Ulquiorra had known him, he'd never seen Grimmjow look so subdued. Grimmjow looked away, face twisted in bitterness, and went into the kitchen.

 _I can't keep doing this to him,_ the guilt brought an ache into his stomach. _How can I ask him to entertain the idea of a future between us when my life is promised to something else?_

A lump thickened in the back of his throat. The only kind thing to do was to spare Grimmjow any more pain and bring an end to the feelings between them. Ulquiorra stayed in his room the rest of the day, trying to think of what he would say, or if he'd have the heart to say it at all. As Grimmjow's shift neared its end, Ulquiorra steeled himself for the hardest conversation of his life and went down to the kitchen.

Grimmjow had just changed out of his soiled clothes and when he spotted Ulquiorra, he froze halfway between the door and the staircase. Grimmjow's shoulders slackened, his eyes darkened. Ulquiorra tried to speak, but the words failed him every time he opened his mouth. "I want—"

"—to talk to you." Grimmjow said. They both froze. Ulquiorra hadn't expected Grimmjow to want to speak to him at all.

Hearing his father's voice down the hall, Ulquiorra motioned Grimmjow up the stairs and led him to the guest bedroom. The setting sun bathed the bed sheets in reddish hues. Ulquiorra looked to him expectantly. Grimmjow glowered at his feet.

"You can—"

"—go first. Shit." Grimmjow rocked back on his heels. "Do you want me to go first?"

Ulquiorra sat on the bed. He wanted to get it all off his chest. "You know about the engagement."

"Congrats." Grimmjow's voice was ice cold.

Ulquiorra weaved his fingers together, eyes locked on his lap.

"I got your voicemail. All ten of them. Didn't know you could be so antsy, Ulqui."

Strange as it was to admit, Ulquiorra was relieved to hear Grimmjow teasing him. "And yet you ignored all of them."

Grimmjow's boots clumped across the wood flooring and came to a stop in front of Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra looked up in time to see Grimmjow suddenly withdraw his hand, as if he'd been reaching for him but decided against it.

"How happy am I supposed to be about playing second banana?"

"I did what I had to. My father threatened to make you disappear."

Grimmjow snorted. "What is he, a magician? He's gonna pull me out of a hat, too?"

"Then can you understand that I was worried about you and what might happen if I didn't go public?"

"So what do you wanna do, Ulquiorra?"

The words were trapped in his throat. "I . . . I don't see any way we can make this work between us." Silence answered him. Ulquiorra wanted to take back the words the minute they'd left his mouth, but they rang true. He couldn't see a future between them, just because they wanted things to work out didn't mean they would. He raised his eyes to Grimmjow's and found his face heavy with doubt.

"Say something." Ulquiorra barely refrained from pleading.

"You're right."

Ulquiorra closed his eyes tightly.

"But like I give a fuck." Grimmjow plopped down on the bed beside him. Ulquiorra couldn't predict where this was going. "So long as you've got your old man breathing down your neck, there's no future between us. So, instead of quitting, really pathetic idea by the way, here's my idea; run away with me. Tonight."

Ulquiorra blinked, trying to process the insanity he'd just heard. "What?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Just for the night! We can see how we feel about leaving this shitty town for real. For fuck's sake . . . have you got a better idea?"

"Do you understand what you're proposing? We have lives in Karakura Town. If I left, my father would disown me. If I can't work in manufacturing, what else would I do, it's all I know."

"Get another job. Same thing, different company. Get out from under your old man."

"As if it's that easy."

"It could be!" Grimmjow jumped up, pacing two and fro. "Whatever you do, it'll be better than making yourself miserable."

"And what would you do?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "Whatever I want, doesn't matter. Enough of the games, Ulquiorra. You can't tell me you'd be happy in an arranged marriage for the rest of your life. We both know that's bullshit." Grimmjow joined him on the bed. Their shoulders touched, sides harmonizing. Of all the outcomes Ulquiorra had expected, he was relieved at least one of them wanted to fight for what they had.

"C'mon, Ulquiorra. We're on the same page here, I know we are."

His plan made no sense. It was illogical in every aspect, reckless and selfish, and yet Grimmjow made it sound so simple.

"How could I just uproot and leave behind everything I know?"

"I did." Something somber settled in Grimmjow's voice. When Ulquiorra looked his way, Grimmjow had turned away from him, looking out the window at the setting sun. "When my parents found out I liked guys, they kicked me outta the house. Gave me enough money for food and few weeks in a cheap hotel until I came to my senses. I was fifteen."

Grimmjow had lived through Ulquiorra's very worst fear. Ulquiorra tore his gaze away to the floor. "What did you do?" Emotion had left his throat thick, and he quickly cleared it.

"Decided I never wanted anything from them again." Pain and anger left Grimmjow's voice raw. "I stopped accepting money from them and started living on my own, going from cheap hotel to cheap hotel until I met some decent guys. They gave me work when I needed it, helped put a roof over my head. They're like brothers to me."

Ulquiorra reached behind him and clasped Grimmjow's knee, holding tight.

"Don't feel bad for me, that's not why I'm telling you this. Point is, I left home with nothing but some cash and whatever I could fit in my suitcase. You've got everything you need to make a life for yourself, Ulquiorra. You just need the balls to make it happen."

Ulquiorra's vision blurred. He pursed his lips tightly. He'd never felt like such an asshole. In this moment, he was in awe of Grimmjow. "You're a much stronger person than I am." If Grimmjow could make a life for himself out of nothing, then what was stopping Ulquiorra?

Grimmjow chuckled. "I'd deny that, but I know when to take a compliment." Grimmjow's warm body draped against Ulquiorra's back, the tip of his chin rested against his shoulder. Grimmjow patted his thigh. "So, what do you think, wanna take off somewhere with me for the night?"

Ulquiorra liked the idea, as impulsive as it was. "Let's do a practice run."

Grimmjow's lips quirked against Ulquiorra's neck, his hands warm and eager against Ulquiorra's chest. "Huh?"

"It's when a product or procedure is verified to ensure it works correctly, so—"

Grimmjow bit his ear. "I know what a fucking practice run is, Smartass. I just wanted the specifics."

"So, in our case, we could go out into the city for the night. Pack whatever we might need and go as far away as we're comfortable going. I'll rent us a hotel for the night so we can talk and come up with a plan. Does this suit you?"

He looked over his shoulder and his stomach fluttered at the excited grin on Grimmjow's face. "Suits me just fine." He pressed his lips to Ulquiorra's. "I'll see ya tonight."


	12. Chapter 12

In the dead of night, Ulquiorra packed a suitcase with some toiletries and a spare change of clothes. He threw his bag in the backseat of his car and started the engine. He clasped the steering wheel tight and didn't look back as he drove from the courtyard. Memories from his boyhood beckoned him back, but none of them were especially warm memories; running home from school to greet his father only to be shushed out of his office, talking to the toys in his room because at least they would listen, the same question running rampant in his mind.

_Does my father love me?_

Now, as a grown man, he understood that his father's only true love was for the business. Ulquiorra had only ever been an afterthought. This should have made leaving easier, but the guilt churned in his stomach. Yet he pushed on, until his boyhood home was far behind him and he pulled up outside the bar he and Grimmjow agreed to meet at.

Drunks spilled out onto the sidewalk, ambling out in front of his car. Ulquiorra rolled down the window, reluctant to step out and deal with the bar-hopping crowd. As Grimmjow strode from the bar, suitcase in hand, something inside Ulquiorra settled. A grin spread easily across Grimmjow's face and the sight of him coaxed a smile to Ulquiorra's lips. Grimmjow made him happy. Wasn't that enough reason to leave it all behind? He wished he hadn't poised that question as the guilt returned with vengeance.

"Right on time!" Grimmjow threw his bag in the trunk and marched around to the front door.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ulquiorra turned toward him. Grimmjow leaned over, hand fumbling across Ulquiorra's chest. His lips claimed Ulquiorra's, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. Heat surged past Ulquiorra's hips and jolted his body into action, curling his fingers in Grimmjow's shirt and pulling him near, until the taller man was half in and out of his lap.

An eager tongue flicked his lip, demanding entrance Ulquiorra granted, unable to stifle his gratified moan as their tongues tangled. Bodies flush, Grimmjow's racing heart pounded beneath Ulquiorra's hand, fingers bunching in his tee shirt.

The window rattled. Panting, they broke apart and found a drunk leering at them. Grimmjow flipped him off. "Asshole."

Ulquiorra slumped against the seat, unbearably hard, and he wasn't the only one. "Happy to see me?" He massaged the tent in Grimmjow's pants. Grimmjow dipped his head, biting down on his lower lip to stifle a moan.

"I'll be honest, didn't think you were coming."

Ulquiorra pulled back to look up at him. "No?"

"I kept telling myself you would, but I wasn't sure."

Up until this moment, Ulquiorra hadn't fully believed in himself, either, but nestled close to Grimmjow, he couldn't bring himself to regret a thing.

"It's not like we're leaving tomorrow. Let's find the hotel," Ulquiorra said as Grimmjow reclined back into his seat.

Ulquiorra entered the hotel address into his GPS and they drove, the city a blur of light and sound outside the windows. Grimmjow's hand wandered over and brushed Ulquiorra's thigh while he drove. The vibrations of the car stoked the desire Grimmjow's touches ignited, but Ulquiorra kept his eyes on the road.

He glanced out the window, admiring a sleek black car in the side mirror. It wasn't one of his father's design, but it was attractive none the less. They stopped for the light, Grimmjow put on some music. Def Leopard. Ulquiorra's mouth twitched at the memory of their karaoke night.

He turned right at the next light, glancing at the side mirror. A black car turned the corner and stopped directly behind them. Ulquiorra squinted at the license, vaguely recognizing the numbers.

_I'm being paranoid._

Yet as they neared their destination, taking more twists and turns, Ulquiorra's stomach plummeted when he glanced out the window and saw that same car lurking in another lane some vehicles behind them.

He said nothing, not wanting to alarm Grimmjow or come across as paranoid.

"Hey, the hotel's down the way," Grimmjow protested as Ulquiorra took a wrong turn.

Ulquiorra took in a slow breath, squeezing the wheel. He looked over his shoulder. His stomach turned over as that same black car rounded the corner behind them.

"Hold on," Ulquiorra put on a burst of speed, barreling through the narrow alley, only slowing when he approached the corner.

"Whoa! What the hell, Ulquiorra?"

"Someone's following us." But as if to contradict him, when Ulquiorra looked back, the car was no longer in pursuit.

"Shit! Who?" Grimmjow's wide eyes scanned the road behind them.

"I don't know. Perhaps the press. My father's been stalked from work before."

Grimmjow bared his teeth, glaring out the window at the road behind them. "Let 'em come. Wouldn't mind some excitement."

Ulquiorra couldn't help a chuckle. "Sneaking off with me isn't excitement enough?"

Grimmjow kept looking back as they drove, squeezing the armrests of his seat. Ulquiorra parked in the lot behind the hotel, choosing a spot farther away from the road and being sure to nestle between two other cars. They got their luggage and went in search of their room.

Grimmjow kept shooting him looks, a smile tugging at his lips.

"What?"

Grimmjow bumped their shoulders together. "It was hot, seeing you take charge like that."

Ulquiorra tugged at his jacket, suddenly warm around the collar.

Grimmjow's jaw dropped when Ulquiorra got the door for him. Ulquiorra had rented them a presidential suite with multiple living room views of the city, and two bedrooms with king beds.

"I didn't even know hotels had rooms like this! This is perfect, we can stay here 'till we figure out what we wanna do." Grimmjow pounced on the sofa and uttered a satisfied groan, spreading out comfortably. He flicked on the HDTV, marveling at the picture quality.

"Have we decided where we're going?" Ulquiorra's nerves mounted as he brought up the subject.

"Let's eat first, then we'll talk."

They ordered room service and curled up on the sofa.

Ulquiorra said, "Let's talk about what we're looking for. We're certain about leaving Karakura?" He couldn't believe he was entertaining such an impulsive idea.

"I am. I'm sick and tired of this town. You?"

Ulquiorra had never been especially attached to Karakura. He stayed because of family connections and the business. "I've never given much thought as to where else I would live, but I would be up for living elsewhere."

"Where? Tokyo, Hokkaido, Kyoto?"

"Tokyo is closer. I know the city well."

"Same. I always liked Tokyo. My folks used to take me into the city on weekends." Grimmjow reached over and twirled a lock of Ulquiorra's hair. "If you could choose anywhere to live, where would it be?"

Ulquiorra shrugged. He'd never thought about it.

Grimmjow cleaned his plate and set it aside. "I've always wanted to go to Thailand. They're cool with same-sex relationships, better than anywhere else in Asia."

"Where in Thailand?"

"Bangkok sounds cool."

"My father has a branch in Bangkok."

Grimmjow's face soured. "Forget that, then."

"I'm not opposed to the idea but we're planning too far ahead. We'll need visas if we want to live in Thailand."

"Wow, really? I'm just asking!" Grimmjow sprawled back, laying his head in Ulquiorra's lap. "What about America? How's your English?"

"Quite fluent, actually. My father had me study it for overseas business trips."

Grimmjow weaved his fingers with Ulquiorra's, kissing the tips of his fingers. He stared at Ulquiorra for a moment, as if trying to memorize every detail of his face. Ulquiorra's stomach did flips under that electric blue gaze. Grimmjow murmured, "Mine's all right. I learned a little in school, have to brush up on it from time to time."

"For what?"

"So, America's an option. Where in America? I always wanted to go to New York."

"Everyone does. What about France?"

Grimmjow made a face. "Their cinema sucks."

"We aren't going there to watch movies, idiot."

Grimmjow smacked him hard on the stomach. Ulquiorra cringed, stifling laughter.

"Wait, so we both agreed on Bangkok, right? It's a lot closer than anyone of those other places. The culture's different, but it probably won't be total whiplash compared to France or the U.S—ah, fuck, listen to us. Getting ahead of ourselves. So, Tokyo it is?"

Excitement fluttered in Ulquiorra's stomach.

"C'mon, Ulquiorra, you know you want to."

Ulquiorra squeezed Grimmjow's hand, tight. "When?"

"Tomorrow, next week, in a month—I don't care, just so long as we do it."

Ulquiorra swallowed, feeling sick and excited all it once. "This isn't going to happen overnight. I need to tell my father, that will be . . . easy. He'll undoubtedly kick me out, so I'll have to book a room in advance. I have to talk to Orihime and cancel the wedding. I'm sure she'll be thrilled. I need to figure out what I'm going to do once my father fires me, what direction my life will go in . . . Grimmjow, there's no feasible way this will work out."

Grimmjow sat up, straddling Ulquiorra's waist. Strong arms wound around Ulquiorra's shoulders. "You don't have to have it all planned out. Besides, you're the son of Aizen Sousuke, automobile emperor himself! You'll have offers comin' in by the time you quit."

"And what will you do?"

"I don't know. Maybe work construction like my old man. I've always had a thing for architectural design, wanted to study it in college. My mother was into fashion. Think she had it in her mind I'd take after her."

"Is that where you get your greaser look from?" Ulquiorra tugged at the collar of Grimmjow's leather jacket.

Large hands grasped his hips. "Point is, Ulquiorra, we'll figure it out. Whatever we choose, we'll be a hell of a lot happier anywhere other than here." Ulquiorra could almost believe him. He'd never put such trust in anyone before.

The warmth of Grimmjow's upper body seeped through his clothes, the touch of his hands threatened to dissolve Ulquiorra's worries. The tan skin of his collarbone enticed Ulquiorra. He brought his lips to Grimmjow's neck, tasting warm, soft skin. He hooked a finger in his shirt, tugging the collar down so he could trace his collarbone with his lips and tongue.

Grimmjow's chest rose and fell as Ulquiorra sought the heat of his skin, burying his hands beneath Grimmjow's shirt. He closed his eyes and let his mouth guide him, charting a course from his neck to his jaw, nibbling at the shell of his ear as Grimmjow's hair tickled his nose.

Grimmjow's labored breathing sent a pulse of desire straight to his cock. Fingers curled in his hair and Ulquiorra couldn't stifle a gasp as Grimmjow yanked his face toward him, meeting him halfway. Their lips clashed, rough eager hands fumbled around his shoulders, running down his back, squeezing his buttocks. Ulquiorra fought for breath, composure slipping by the second as hot lips attacked his neck, biting down on his skin, leaving his mark for the world to see.

"Fuck, I want you," Grimmjow's low voice rumbled in his ear. "Tell me what you want, Ulquiorra."

"You." Wanting there to be no doubt between them, Ulquiorra rocked his hips against Grimmjow's thigh. He'd never dared to think of a day when he'd admit such a thing to another man without shame, but he couldn't be ashamed of Grimmjow. Grimmjow covered Ulquiorra's lips with his, kissing until Ulquiorra's lips tingled, stopping only to remove their clothes. Ulquiorra could get high off his taste, drunk off the passion Grimmjow showed him, but he'd waited too long for this moment. They could kiss all they wanted once Ulquiorra was through with him.

Grimmjow toppled back against the cushions, bare chest heaving and glistening with sweat. Ulquiorra caught his breath, already missing the touch of his lips as he unbuckled Grimmjow's belt. Grimmjow propped himself onto his elbows, a mischievous smile lighting up his eyes, his eyes observing Ulquiorra's every move.

Ulquiorra gave his jeans a tug and Grimmjow raised his hips to aid him. His briefs strained, stretched to their limit by his girth. Ulquiorra swallowed, short of breath when he imagined how Grimmjow would feel inside him, stretching him wide, filling him.

His lips wandered, licking at the sweat that gleamed on his skin. The fabric of his briefs tickled Ulquiorra's chin. Grimmjow's breath quickened as Ulquiorra shimmied his briefs down to his knees. His cock curled up toward his toned stomach, thick and long, just begging for Ulquiorra's hands, his mouth.

"Condoms?"

"Suitcase," Grimmjow grunted, wrenching over his bag and tearing into it, throwing things out until he found them, tossing one to Ulquiorra. "Pu it on me." Grimmjow's dark eyes followed Ulquiorra's every move, raising his hips with a low groan as Ulquiorra eased the condom on.

"You sure you can take on all that?" The smirk on Grimmjow's face made Ulquiorra's blood simmer. "Might be a bit much for you. And it's your first time, too, right? Sure you don't want me to take—"

He clutched Ulquiorra's hair, groaning breathlessly as Ulquiorra wrapped his lips around him, bobbing his head to suck him in one long stroke from the middle of his shaft to the swollen head.

"Oh, fuck, you're good." Grimmjow's hands trembled as they squeezed Ulquiorra's hair, thighs trembling and toes curling.

Ulquiorra's mouth twitched, satisfaction giving way to a surge of confidence as he stroked and squeezed what he didn't take into his mouth. "I'm a virgin, Grimmjow, not an idiot," he said, scattering kisses across his muscular inner thighs.

"You—you sure you've never done this before?" Grimmjow choked, shuddering as Ulquiorra licked his cockhead.

"No, but I've done my research," Ulquiorra brought two fingers beneath Grimmjow's heavy balls, swirling them in slow, tight circles until he had Grimmjow grasping at the sheets. "I wanted to prepare in case."

Grimmjow gave his hair a tug. "No more talking, don't stop!"

Ulquiorra obliged, his own cock throbbing when he imagined just how lewd he must look to Grimmjow, sucking him off on his hands and knees. He met Grimmjow's gaze, his eyes were lidded as he squinted at Ulquiorra, lower lip clasped between his teeth, sweaty chest rising and falling. He was close, and Ulquiorra was determined to bring him over the edge.

A breathless string of curses spilled from his lips as Grimmjow's hips launched off the bed, fisting Ulquiorra's hair as he fucked into his mouth. Ulquiorra breathed in deep through his nose, pulling back to give Grimmjow just enough room to buck into his lips. Ulquiorra's cock swelled, throbbing harder as he realized he'd been the one to make Grimmjow lose his composure.

Grimmjow's hips jerked, fingers balling the sheets as he collapsed, gasping for breath. "Holy—fucking hell, Ulquiorra." He yanked off the condom and slumped against the cushions.

It was hard not to feel smug. Ulquiorra discarded the used condom in the trash, Grimmjow's eyes on his back. When he returned, Grimmjow claimed his mouth and led him to the bed. "Your turn," he murmured, and he flipped them over so Ulquiorra was on his stomach, his aching shaft pressed tight between his stomach and the sheets. Ulquiorra shifted his hips, biting his lip when his cock was stimulated. He was more eager than he ever wanted to admit. He'd waited so long, too long.

Warm lips nibbled his ear. "Be patient. Gonna make you feel fucking amazing." Large warm hands traversed his back, grabbed fistfuls of his ass and squeezed tight. Breath quickening, Ulquiorra rocked his hips against the mattress. A warm wet tongue dipped in his spine, licking a trail to his tailbone, delving between his cheeks. Hot breath blazed against his entrance, Ulquiorra squeezed the cushion as his anticipation mounted.

Hungry lips parted around his left buttock, Grimmjow's teeth came into play, biting down. "Love your ass. It's fuckin' perfect." Grimmjow's palm struck his buttock, burning white hot. Ulquiorra bit down on the cushion to stifle himself, raising his hips to implore him for more.

All the breath went out of him as Grimmjow lapped at his entrance, tonguing his most sensitive spot in tight, wet circles. Face burning hot, Ulquiorra bit his lip to muffle the gasps spilling from his lips.

"You always this clean, or just for me?" Grimmjow purred, voice vibrating perfectly against his hole, tingling deep in his balls.

Ulquiorra had prepared himself specifically for tonight. He wanted Grimmjow's cock inside him, he couldn't wait much longer.

"More. Hurry."

Grimmjow rummaged in the suitcase. A cap popped up and Grimmjow's fingers, slick and wet, eased their way inside. Ulquiorra sighed his relief, raising his hips, needing more. Grimmjow's fingers curled, the backs of his knuckles caressing a spot inside him that had Ulquiorra's whole body tensing up. He let go, unable to hold back his gratified sounds.

"Fuck. That's it, wanna hear every noise you make." Grimmjow's voice trembled as he curled his fingers inside Ulquiorra again. Ulquiorra latched onto the cushion, nails digging into the fabric. It was so much better than he'd thought it could be, even when he'd done it to himself. Just knowing it was Grimmjow touching him so intimately left him incoherent with pleasure but his fingers wouldn't do, not for long.

"Fuck me, Grimmjow."

A moan rumbled from Grimmjow's chest. Foil crinkled and tore. Ulquiorra's arms trembled as he raised himself onto his hands and knees. The tip of Grimmjow's cock nudged his entrance, larger than any of his fingers. Ulquiorra took in a breath and found it driven out of him as Grimmjow penetrated the tight ring of muscle.

It felt strange at first but Grimmjow took it slow, easing his way in deeper. "Breathe, Ulqui," he grunted. Ulquiorra grit his teeth and forced out a shallow breath. He looked over his shoulder and his heart raced as bliss softened Grimmjow's rough features. He met Ulquiorra's gaze and ran a hand up his back to curl in his hair. He rolled his hips, striking that spot that had Ulquiorra's toes curling. Ulquiorra's arms trembled, he arched his hips and their voices harmonized as Grimmjow thrust even deeper, faster.

Hands clasped his hips, tugging Ulquiorra down onto his cock. Ulquiorra tore at the fabric, trembling as Grimmjow gave it to him just the way he wanted without having to say a word. Craving more, Ulquiorra rolled his hips back and was unprepared for the eruption of pleasure as their bodies came together, Grimmjow's pelvis flush with his buttocks.

Grimmjow's thrusts suddenly slowed and left Ulquiorra breathless and impatient. "Roll over," Grimmjow panted. Ulquiorra obliged, arms trembling. Sweat streaked Grimmjow's face, glittering on his chest. His hair was mused, sapphire eyes dark with lust. Grimmjow gave his head a little shake as their eyes met. "Fuckin' hell, you're beautiful, Ulquiorra," he whispered then he folded at the waist, crushing his mouth to Ulquiorra's.

Ulquiorra tangled his fingers in his hair, urging him not to pull away, biting back a disappointed growl when Grimmjow did, and throwing Ulquiorra's legs over his shoulders. He grasped Ulquiorra's hips and Ulquiorra's eyes closed, feeling a sense of total completeness as Grimmjow filled him, slowly. Craving their desperate pace from before, Ulquiorra raised his hips. Grimmjow eased himself inside, lower lip between his teeth as he stifled a groan.

Their eyes met, Ulquiorra's heart thundered when he realized that their pleasure and vulnerability was laid bare before one another. There was nowhere to hide. In this moment, they saw each other as no one else ever would.

Then Grimmjow rolled his hips, burying himself to the hilt. Ulquiorra arched off the bed, gasping fervently, "Yes! Like that, more!" He'd never sounded more demanding, but it only spurred Grimmjow on.

Grimmjow's hips struck his buttocks as he seized Ulquiorra's hips and pulled him down to meet every thrust, until Ulquiorra's body quaked. Incoherent, all he could do was tear at the sheets, praying that no matter what, Grimmjow never stopped.

"Fuck, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow's voice broke, he draped himself across Ulquiorra. Their lips passed every moan and breathless gasp from one mouth to the other. Their bodies glided together, slick and drenched in sweat. Their eyes met between frantic, sloppy kisses and a thrill swept down Ulquiorra's spine, fluttering through his stomach.

Grimmjow suddenly grasped Ulquiorra's hand. He splayed Ulquiorra's hand against his chest. His heart beat frantically beneath Ulquiorra's hand. Ulquiorra thought his own would burst in that moment. He guided Grimmjow's hand to his chest so he could feel the way it beat desperately for him.

_It's as if he's holding my heart in his hand, and his is in mine._

His arms flew around broad shoulders, clinging to Grimmjow as he his pleasure peaked and left him helpless, hips shooting up from the mattress. Grimmjow held him tight, stifling his moans against Ulquiorra's neck as with three swift thrusts, he spilled inside him.

Ulquiorra collapsed, utterly boneless into the mattress, pulling Grimmjow down with him. He shuddered in Grimmjow's arms, gasping against his shoulder. Grimmjow's arms tightened around him, trembling lips fluttering across his skin.

Ulquiorra's eyes were too heavy to keep open but he fought hard against his exhaustion when a warm hand, damp with sweat, settled against his cheek. A smile softened Grimmjow's features. Ulquiorra's stomach fluttered and his throat tightened when he realized that such a gentle smile was for him and no one else.

_How can I put into words how much I've fallen in love with you?_

Ulquiorra had always thought himself good with words, but at the moment he needed them most, they completely failed him. Perhaps it was for the better. Words could never do his feelings justice. His eyes fluttered closed, and he licked at the salt on Grimmjow's lips as they kissed for the final time that night. Warm, damp fingers glided through his hair.

"I love you."

Ulquiorra smiled, though as sleep overcame him, he wasn't sure he'd really heard it at all. Grimmjow's arms held him tight and, sweaty and overcome, they fell asleep in one another's arms.


	13. Chapter 13

Grimmjow's body ached blissfully when he woke, tangled up in soft velvety sheets. He smiled as memories of last night came rushing back to him.

_I had sex with Ulquiorra Cifer._

He wanted to dance around the room but he settled for swaying side to side in bed, unable to wipe the stupid grin off his face.

_Not just any sex, the best fucking sex I've ever had._

The sounds he'd made as that icy stoic composure melted, the way his lips felt around his cock, the heat and tightness of him. His skin, soft and warm beneath Grimmjow's hands, Grimmjow's name had never held so much meaning until he'd heard it shuddering off Ulquiorra's every breath as he climaxed, squeezing so tight around him.

His cock stirred to life just remembering, and he wanted Ulquiorra all over again. He had to savor every minute they had together before they left this hotel room. His hands wandered across ruffled sheets, feeling blindly only to encounter empty spaces. Just before his eyes could open, a hand clasped his and held tight.

His eyes opened, drinking in the sight of Ulquiorra sitting at the edge of the bed. Sunlight glimmered off his bare shoulders, but that enticing lower body was sadly clothed. Grimmjow hooked his arm around Ulquiorra's waist and pulled himself closer. "You better not tell me you have to leave," he murmured.

"I do." Grimmjow closed his eyes as gentle fingers drifted through his hair. "I'm going to tell my father about us. Once that's over, then I'm leaving. I'll stay in the hotel until I find a suitable apartment in Tokyo for us. It will be . . . an experience unlike anything."

Grimmjow sat up, fully awake. He laid his chin on Ulquiorra's shoulder. His heart pounded faster when Ulquiorra turned his cheek toward him, allowing Grimmjow to kiss his jaw. "You sure?"

Ulquiorra chuckled. "You're asking me that now after putting the idea in my head?"

"It's fuckin' ballsy, that's all." Pride tightened Grimmjow's chest, his arms twined around Ulquiorra's waist and squeezed.

"It won't be easy." Ulquiorra's hand was unsteady as it settled on Grimmjow's arm. "What an understatement. This will be the hardest conversation I'll ever have, but I've never been surer. I want everything we talked about last night, even the uncertain bits."

Grimmjow pressed his face into Ulquiorra's shoulder, overwhelmed by the happiness that seized him. "Me, too."

Ulquiorra squeezed his arm tight. "Good." Ulquiorra wore a small but beautiful smile when he rotated in Grimmjow's arms. "This will be difficult, but I think you're worth it. Don't prove me wrong."

Grimmjow tangled his fingers in Ulquiorra's hair, pulling him close to taste his lips. Words couldn't express how proud he was of this man, how much he loved him. He ached to tell him then and there, give it his best shot as bad as he was with words because Ulquiorra deserved that much, but Ulquiorra pulled away and grabbed his shirt.

Grimmjow swallowed down his confession. They'd have plenty of time to talk later. Grimmjow had his own confrontation. He had to speak to Nnoitra, tell him the deal was off, and finally begin a new life outside his reach. Uncertainty formed a cold, hard lump in his stomach.

Nnoitra wouldn't allow him to walk away. If he wanted a future with Ulquiorra, he would have to fight for it. He prided himself on his skills with a pistol, but Nnoitra was wildly unpredictable when he was angry. He refused to even think about dying at Nnoitra's hands. He wouldn't, not if he had Ulquiorra waiting for him.

Ulquiorra pulled on his shirt. "I'll drive you back to your place, then I'll meet my father."

Once they were dressed, they left the hotel room and wandered out into the light of day. Grimmjow balled his fists, wishing he could hold onto their night together just a short while longer, but the time had come for action. He'd talked about a future with Ulquiorra, and now it was time to prove how badly he truly wanted it.

He grabbed Ulquiorra's wrist before he could step into the car. He held Ulquiorra's gaze and said, "We'll meet back here after noon. Got it?" It was a promise, to himself, to Ulquiorra. He would see him again. He wouldn't allow himself to fall at Nnoitra's hands.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened at the intensity in Grimmjow's voice. "Of course."

Grimmjow tightened his hold on his wrist, suddenly reluctant to let him go. He leaned down, pressing his mouth firmly to Ulquiorra's, his arm twined around his waist and pulled, pressing their bodies close.

"Is something wrong?" Ulquiorra murmured, his hands reassuring on Grimmjow's back.

Grimmjow didn't answer and pressed his face to his shoulder, breathing in his scent. The words pressed against the back of his lips. He had to say them, now, in case he never got the chance.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra's voice was filled with urgency. "There's someone watching us, look."

Grimmjow whirled in time for his eyes to be blinded by a flash of light. The flash came from beyond the tinted windows of a black car, parked outside the hotel doors. Grimmjow vaguely recognized it. He charged, running out in front of the car before it could drive away.

"Who the fuck are you?" He slammed his hands down on the front of the car. The driver, face obscured by sunglasses, cowered behind the wheel. "Outta the car, now!" Grimmjow banged on the window, rattled the knob. Grimmjow lifted his suitcase and bashed it into the window. Glass exploded around him and he lunged, unlocking the door through the shattered window.

He seized the driver by the scruff and hurled him out onto the floor. The driver's black beanie tumbled off, a curtain of pink hair cascaded free. Grimmjow tackled him, turning him over.

Szayel Aporro shielded his face in his hands as Grimmjow drew back his fist. Grimmjow's fury mounted at the sight of him. "What in the fuck are you doing here, Granz? Come back for another beating?"

"He has pictures of us." Ulquiorra's voice trembled as he examined the camera that had spilled from Szayel's grasp. "Grimmjow, what is he doing here?"

"Help me!" Szayel screamed to the gathering crowd. "I'm being robbed, they're stealing my camera!"

The crowd gathered around Ulquiorra, trying to take the camera out of his grasp.

Grimmjow's fist collided into Szayel's nose. Everything was unraveling around him and if he didn't stop it, he could lose everything. "What do you want?"

Szayel sneered at him, teeth painted crimson. "Because of you, Nnoitra-sama humiliated me. I had to earn back his favor somehow. Once he sees those pictures, it's over for you, and the beginning of my career at his side!"

Hands clambered around him, tugging at him. Grimmjow was thrown backwards as strangers ganged up on him, threatening to call the police. Grimmjow searched among the crowd for Ulquiorra, but he couldn't see him. He had to find him.

"Ulquiorra?" His voice came out strangled and small. Someone ran out in front of him, trying to restrain him. "Move!" Grimmjow hurled him out of the way and ran. "Ulquiorra?" he looked around the streets but couldn't see him.

"Grimmjow!" He turned and found Ulquiorra getting into his car. Grimmjow ran, shoving through anyone who tried to stop him and hurled himself into the front seat, the door dangling open as Ulquiorra kicked the engine into gear.

They left the crowds behind and drove fast, the streets a blur.

"Where's the camera?" Grimmjow asked.

"Someone took it," Ulquiorra snapped, his lips thin and anger blazing in his eyes. "I need to get home, tell my father before he hears everything from a stranger." The car lurched to a halt and Grimmjow collided into the dashboard. Ulquiorra slumped over the wheel, breathing hard.

"Ulquiorra, listen to me, it's gonna be okay." Grimmjow rubbed at his shoulders but Ulquiorra batted him away.

"What did Szayel want with you? He mentioned this Nnoitra-sama, as if you should know him."

Grimmjow collapsed against his seat as he struggled for words.

Ulquiorra clasped his arm in a death grasp. "Grimmjow, tell me what's going on."

"All right!" Grimmjow's hands trembled in his lap. He looked out the window and closed his eyes tightly, every breath like a dagger. "But you've gotta hear me out, every word. Just . . . remember all the stuff we talked about last night. I meant all of it. Do this for me."

"Just talk." Ulquiorra had picked up on his anxiety, and his voice was weary.

Grimmjow balled his fists. He felt sick to his stomach. He'd never been more afraid of anything.

"Granz is a yakuza, I told you that before. But so am I."

Ulquiorra stilled beside him, wide eyes raking over Grimmjow's face.

"I told you it was part of my past, but it isn't. I want it to be, you gotta understand—"

"You lied to my face. You lied to me as we were having sex. You knew I'd refuse if you told the truth, so you—What else have you lied about?" Ulquiorra's breathing turned short, his voice trembled as he slumped back into his seat.

"And I'm telling you now. Listen to me! He and I are from the same syndicate. Nnoitra Gilga is my boss, he hired us to find blackmail on your family."

A trembling hand covered Ulquiorra's mouth. "All this time, you—"

Grimmjow couldn't bear to watch Ulquiorra fall apart before his eyes, but he forced himself to look Ulquiorra in the eyes. He deserved this for all the lies he'd told.

Ulquiorra raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. "You were going to use my sexuality to blackmail my father. Of course."

"No!" Grimmjow reached for him but Ulquiorra smacked his hand away. Grimmjow recoiled. "No, Ulquiorra. I was doing everything I could to avoid that. Come on, you know what I've been through, you know I wouldn't—"

"True, the Grimmjow I know wouldn't. But you're not him. I don't even know who you are anymore." Blinking hard, Ulquiorra looked out the window, shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

Grimmjow dropped his head back against the seat, struggling to breathe around the lump in his throat. "Listen, I came into your home with an ulterior motive, but that wasn't why I stayed. I want everything we talked about last night."

"This is why you wanted us to leave." Ulquiorra whirled around to face him, eyes blazing. "It wasn't because you cared; you wanted to save your own skin."

"Because my boss figured out how I feel about you! Ulquiorra, listen to me!"

"Why, so you can lie to me some more? Haven't you gotten enough out of me?"

"Ulquiorra, do I have to beg? Would that make you understand what I'm trying to tell you? I would never have used your sexuality against your family. Never!"

"I'm supposed to believe that, after you looked me in the eyes and lied to my face, when you just admitted you've been lying to me since the moment we met?"

Grimmjow couldn't speak. He had no right to ask Ulquiorra for anything. "I want to be better. I want out from the yakuza, I'm done with them! That's why I wanted us to leave. I want a future with you. Damn it, Ulquiorra, I'm in love with you!"

Lips trembling, Ulquiorra looked away. "I wish I believed you."

Grimmjow's eyes burned and stung. "Ulqui—"

"Get out."

Grimmjow grasped his shoulder. "No. Ulquiorra, I love—"

"Get out!" Ulquiorra's voice filled the car, full of more anger and hurt than Grimmjow had ever heard. Unshed tears gleamed in Ulquiorra's eyes. Grimmjow didn't deserve him. He'd lost any right to his affection after how deeply his lies had cut him.

His hand trembled as he wrenched on the handle, jerking the door up. The city blurred through his eyes and the wind cut through him as he stumbled out into a lamppost. The door slammed behind him, the rumbling of the engine faded away.

He bit back the grief tearing at the back of his throat. He had to fix this. He wouldn't stop until he tried. If all his attempts failed, then he could mourn the loss of the man he loved, but only after he'd done everything in his power to fix what he'd broken.

* * *

Grimmjow pounded on the front door to Nnoitra's apartment. The locks rattled and the door creaked open. The beady eyes of Nnoitra's bodyguard squinted at him. "The boss didn't mention you were coming. He's told me no visitors, so—"

Grimmjow lunged, throwing himself against the door. The bodyguard collided into the wall with a grunt. Grimmjow fisted his hair and hurled him headfirst against the door. The guard crumpled, drooling on the carpet as Grimmjow stepped over him and marched toward Nnoitra's office.

"Nnoitra!" His voice echoed through the corridor. He squeezed the handle of the gun in the back pocket of his jeans. A cackle of laughter erupted from the study. Grimmjow drew his pistol and readied himself, heartbeat roaring in his ears. He kicked open the door.

Nnoitra sat up, hand upon his pistol as Grimmjow burst into the room. Nnoitra took aim and both men found themselves frozen, fingers on the triggers. Nnoitra curled his lip, single eye alight with contempt. "Finally pulled Cifer's cock outta your mouth long enough to face me like a man? Didn't think a fag like you could be so ballsy." Szayel's camera lay on Nnoitra's desk.

"Hand over the camera, now." Grimmjow growled. "I'm done with your shit, Gilga. I'm my own man from this day out!"

Nnoitra barked laughter. "You really think you'll make it outta Karakura alive? You'll be hunted from this day out, Jaegerjaquez, mark my fucking words."

Grimmjow's stomach clenched at the truth in those words. He might never be a free man.

"You and Cifer." Nnoitra tutted. "Szayel was right after all. He warned me you wouldn't be able to keep it in your pants, and I shoulda listened. Trusting you with this job was a mistake, one I'll make up for once your brains decorate my wall."

Grimmjow would be damned before he died here. He squeezed the trigger and the gun bucked in his grasp, spewing sparks and smoke. A shower of dust and debris rained on Nnoitra from the ceiling. Grimmjow lunged for the desk and seized the camera. Gunfire erupted, blowing a hole in the doorframe next to his shoulder as he ran.

_Should have fucking killed him!_

A part of him knew he'd regret not aiming for Gilga's slimy face, but revenge was secondary. Nnoitra was a good shot; the fight could have ended with either one of them dead and Grimmjow hadn't come here to die. Taking him by surprise was the better option. Revenge could come later, after he'd protected Ulquiorra and his family from ridicule.

He ran from the building and hurled himself onto his bike. The engine roared to life and Grimmjow drove as fast as he could. He parked his bike and took the elevator up to his apartment. "D-Roy?" He hollered, bursting in. Quiet answered him. "Fuck!" The cellphone almost slipped form his trembling fingers as he called Shawlong.

"Grimmjow! I tried to reach you. Nnoitra's furious. What's happened?"

"What did he tell you?"

"He sent Szayel to spy on you and Sousuke's son, he told us you'd betrayed the organization. Where are you, are you safe?"

Grimmjow laughed. He'd never be safe again. "We fought, he tried to kill me."

"Are you all right?"

"No. I've gotta leave Karakura Town." He had to speak to Ulquiorra before he left. There wasn't any chance in hell Ulquiorra would agree to leave with him, and Grimmjow would never ask Ulquiorra to follow him into a life of hiding. They'd be saying goodbye, for good. His throat closed up.

A shaky sigh came from Shawlong's side of the call. "Do what you have to do, Grimmjow."

"Yeah." His voice came out hoarse. "Thanks, Shaw. For everything. Elforte and that asshole D-Roy, too."

"It's been my pleasure." Shawlong voice, usually so calm, was weak with emotion.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Certainly."

"Can you . . ." He wrestled with the words. He'd never wanted things to end this way. "Buy me some time, will you? Keep Gilga off my trail just for a little while. I've gotta say goodbye. To him."

"I'm sorry, Grimmjow."

He scrubbed stubbornly at his eyes, clenching his jaw tight as he wrestled with his emotion. "I'm not."

Kenta, Ollie, his parents, Ulquiorra—love had always ended in pain for him, but he would never regret Ulquiorra, not as long as he lived.

* * *

Grimmjow parked his motorbike at the foot of hill ascending to the Sousuke home. The sun had disappeared long ago, and stars blanketed the sky. He scaled the hill, each step heavier than the one before it. The sight of the Sousuke villa drove a stab of pain into his heart.

He remembered driving to the villa on his motorcycle for his first day of work, thinking it was the coldest yet most beautiful house he'd ever seen. He'd been driven, determined to have them eating out of his hand, then he'd discovered what Ulquiorra was hiding, and it changed everything.

He wandered the perimeter of the house. The cameras would not doubt catch him, so he'd have to be fast. He scaled a tree and dropped from the branch, landing beyond the fence. Keeping within the trees close to the wall, he made his way closer to the side of the house where Ulquiorra's bedroom was.

Peering up at the veranda, he caught sight of a drainpipe that snaked up the wall. Bit by bit, he climbed the pipe, swinging a leg over the railing of Ulquiorra's terrace. He fumbled in his satchel, finding the camera. His heart sunk. Part of him just wanted to leave it for Ulquiorra to discover, anything to avoid saying farewell.

Ulquiorra deserved better than that. Scowling at himself, he rapped on the glass door. The sheets ruffled beyond the curtain. Grimmjow knocked again. Footsteps headed toward him and the curtain swept aside. Ulquiorra's eyes went wide, his gasp misted against the glass. Ulquiorra's face hardened, the curtain fluttered shut.

"Ulquiorra, come on." Grimmjow raised a hand to knock again.

The lock clicked, the door opened. Ulquiorra slipped an arm through a velvet robe, his gaze reproachful. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"Maybe tell someone to cut the trees around your wall. Security hazard, and all."

Ulquiorra's brows knit. "Grimmjow, we've said all we need to say."

"That's not why I'm here." Grimmjow clasped the camera in his satchel. He tossed it and Ulquiorra caught it. Understanding widened Ulquiorra's eyes and melted his icy hostility, leaving his face unreadable.

Grimmjow leaned back on the railing, clutching it tight for support. "The pictures are on there. I'd have deleted 'em myself, but figured you'd probably sleep easier if you did it."

Ulquiorra's shoulders slackened. "Why?"

Grimmjow looked down at his feet, scuffing his shoe against the ground. He didn't answer. The pad of Ulquiorra's thumb settled on his cheek, robbing him of the air he needed to breath. "What did you do?" Ulquiorra's stoic voice trembled. Sharp, stinging pain radiated from his cheek where a scrap of debris had cut him. He hadn't noticed, too intent on his escape.

"I left my boss. I've gotta go, Ulquiorra."

"You didn't have to—you shouldn't have done this." The emotion in Ulquiorra's voice nearly broke him, and yet it healed something inside him knowing that Ulquiorra still cared, even a little.

Grimmjow smiled, amazed that he still could. "Well, I did. Got a problem with that?"

Ulquiorra blinked hard. His jaw, tightly clenched, trembled. "You fool."

Grimmjow's fingers curled, he ached to take Ulquiorra's hand and hold it tight, but he didn't. If he touched him at all, he'd break and stay, and that was something he couldn't do. "I'm . . . I'm sorry for everything." He'd said and done everything he needed to do. He took in a breath that was like a dagger in his throat and turned away. "See you, Ulqui."

And he was gone, sliding down the drainpipe, scaling the wall. He jogged back to his bike and started the engine. He drove until the hill stop was out of sight, then he pulled over and killed the engine. His chest heaved, and there was an ache in his throat. Gasps spilled from his lips, an alien sound to his own ears. He slumped over the handlebars, digging his fingers into his eyes but it was no use.

Sobs tore from his lips and he could no longer fight them. He wept for Kenta, for Ollie, and Ulquiorra—all the men he'd loved and lost, drowned in sorrow so thick and impenetrable he never thought he'd see the other side of it.

But from his grief rose determination. Every encounter, no matter how badly they'd ended, had shaped him into the man he was now. He was heartbroken, he'd lost everything and he would have to run far away and for how long, he didn't know. But he would remember all of them, he wouldn't let the man they'd made him break and shatter. Otherwise, what was the pain all for?

He'd live for each of them, but he would never allow himself this crippling pain again. He would never love anyone like he'd loved Ulquiorra. He would never let anyone so close to him. He'd keep their love like a scar in his heart, and he would be a better man from this moment on.

When he could move again, he jammed the key in the ignition and turned. He wiped his eyes and put on his helmet. The headlight illuminated the long stretch of road ahead, lighting the way to who knows where. The engine came to life like a heartbeat beneath him, and Grimmjow sped off into the night.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos! There's about three more chapters left. Thanks for sticking around until the end.

"Come in," Aizen Sousuke commanded.

Ulquiorra hand trembled as he eased open the door. Aizen sat at his desk, a steaming mug of coffee to keep him awake long into the night while he worked. He glanced up and said, "You're awake. Is something the matter?"

Ulquiorra was unsure where even to begin.

"Are you feeling sick? We have a meeting in the morning, you should take something and go to bed."

"I won't . . . I won't be going to that meeting."

Aizen adjusted his glasses, squinting at Ulquiorra in confusion. "Explain."

"You were right. About Grimmjow and me. We were seeing one another. That ended as of five minutes ago." He blinked hard and averted his gaze, willing his emotions to remain in check for just a few minutes longer.

"Good," Aizen stated. Ulquiorra's fingers curled. "Then you realize how foolishly you've been behaving."

"Actually, it's the opposite." Anger overran his pain and lent him a sudden burst of strength. "I loved him, deeply. I still do. And I now know he felt the same. I don't expect you to understand, considering your only love in life is your work."

Aizen chuckled coldly. "Is that what this is about, you got your heart broken by a thug, now you expect to neglect your duties until you feel ready to act like a man?"

"Don't call him that. I came here to talk but if you continue to insult him, then I will walk out and you will never see me again."

"Then talk." Aizen's nostrils flared.

"Knowing everything I've just told you, will you still allow me to inherit the business?"

Aizen took a sip of coffee, face twisting as if it were too bitter. "And why should I? You will bring nothing but shame to me and my business. I cannot allow that."

"I see. Then I'm leaving."

Aizen removed his gasses, rubbing between his brows as if he had a headache. "And where exactly will you go?"

"I don't know." The uncertainty made his legs tremble. "But I won't stay here."

Outrage tightened his father's features. "The nerve of you. I gave you everything. If it weren't for me, you'd still be in foster care."

"I am grateful to you for many things, but I won't live a lie to make you happy."

"Get out," Aizen seethed, eyes blazing with cold fury.

Ulquiorra turned away, wishing things could have turned out differently. Feeling numb, as if he were an outsider observing his own body, Ulquiorra went up to his room and packed a suitcase full of anything he might need. He picked up the camera on his bed and turned it on. He stared into the little window, a picture of himself and Grimmjow wrapped in one another's arms. This camera held a reminder of a moment when he'd been happier than he'd ever been.

He would never be so happy again. Ulquiorra Cifer was dead and gone. Someone else had risen from the ashes in his place to face an uncertain future. There was nothing for him in Karakura anymore, nor in Tokyo, or anywhere else in the world. All he wanted was to be by Grimmjow's side, no matter the danger. A life without him was devoid of purpose.

Ulquiorra crammed the camera in his bag and left his bedroom for the last time. He climbed into his car and drove from the villa. He didn't allow himself to look back. He whipped his phone from his pocket and called Orihime.

"Ulquiorra-kun?" her voice was groggy with sleep. "It's so late, is something wrong?"

"The wedding's off. I told my father everything."

"You did?" Orihime squealed. "You told him about you and Grimmjow-kun? How did he take it?"

"As well as you'd expect, so I left. I'm never going back."

"Oh. Oh, my. What will you do?"

"I don't know, but I want to find Grimmjow."

"Find him?" What happened between you two?"

"It's a . . . long story, but he's left Karakura, and I plan to follow him."

Orihime was quiet for a moment. "So, does this mean we'll never see each other again?"

"I don't know."

"Come and spend the night, maybe you can get in touch with Grimmjow-kun in the morning?"

Ulquiorra wanted to. He'd like nothing more than to see her before he followed Grimmjow wherever he was going, but he had to find him. "I need to call Grimmjow, let him know I'm coming to find him. We've already made plans to leave the city. He's in danger, Orihime. We can't stay in Karakura for much longer."

"Danger?" Worry gripped her voice. "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

Headlights on the road ahead caught Ulquiorra's attention. Two black Cadillac cars came swerving out from around the corner and formed a blockade in the road. Ulquiorra slammed on the brake. Dread sunk into the pit of his stomach.

"Orihime, I've got to go."

"Ulquiorra-kun, what's happening? Is something wrong?"

Ulquiorra hung up, phone clattering at his feet. Ahead, the front door slammed as a passenger exited the vehicle. Tall and lanky, long black hair billowing in the wind. Headlights flooded down the hill from behind him, illuminating a narrow face and a single eye, the other covered by an eyepatch. Ulquiorra looked behind him and saw another Cadillac at the top of the hill. He'd been followed.

"Yo, Cifer-san!" Called the gravelly voice of the one-eyed man. "Sorry for the surprise greeting. It's sure late at night, so we thought we'd accompany you to my place."

Ulquiorra grasped the door handle, swallowing hard as his heart thudded against his chest. They knew who he was, and judging by the tattoos crawling up the one-eyed man's arms, he had a terrible feeling he knew who they were, too.

_What do I do? Do I run? Stay in the car? What do they want with me? Oh. The camera. Grimmjow never gave them the camera with the evidence against me. So, then they've come for—_

They'd come for him in person. Ulquiorra bolted from the car. His knees struck the dirt and he scrambled to stand, running for the trees across the road. An explosive sound left Ulquiorra's ears ringing and he dropped to the dirt, holding his head in his hands. He'd never heard gunfire before, but there could be no mistaking such a sound. He huddled with his knees to his chest, listening as footsteps crunched on the gravel. Any second now, he expected his life to end in an eruption of gunfire.

Spidery fingers fisted his shirt and yanked him to his feet. Ulquiorra found himself face to face with the one-eyed man. An unnaturally wide smile carved his face in two, and revealed horse-like teeth.

"Pretty face," the one-eyed man said, a long tongue wetting his lips. "I can see why Jaegerjaquez fucked you."

"You're Nnoitra?"

"What do you know, Grimmy mentioned me to you. I'm flattered. Get in the car. Any sudden moves, and I'll put a bullet in you. I won't kill you, but you'll wish I had. Got it?"

Ulquiorra nodded. Nnoitra shoved him toward the car. The door opened for him, revealing a dark interior. Ulquiorra closed his eyes tight and slipped into the darkness.

* * *

Grimmjow's eyes were heavy with exhaustion. The chaotic encounter with Nnoitra, coupled with the rush of emotions, was taking a toll on him. He parked his bike in the parking lot of a cheap motel and went in to rent a room. This would be life for the next few months, never sleeping in one place until he could find somewhere in Tokyo.

He waited at the front desk, fighting the urge to put his head down on the counter until the receptionist could finish whatever they were doing and come give him a room. His phone buzzed in his bag.

Shawlong had messaged him. Grimmjow checked the message and his heart dropped.

**Shawlong: Meet me at my home. He has Ulquiorra.**

"Hello, sir, how can I help you?"

Grimmjow lurched away from the desk, his mind flying in a hundred different directions. Nnoitra had Ulquiorra. He'd left to keep Ulquiorra safe, not get him involved in any more trouble. He ran from the motel and threw himself on his bike. The engine roared to life and Grimmjow sped from the parking lot.

When he arrived at Shawlong's apartment, he jogged from the elevator and pounded on the door. Shawlong awaited him inside.

"What happened?" Grimmjow asked, voice worn and ragged from running.

"Nnoitra invited myself and others to accompany him to Sousuke's villa. We waited in hiding."

"You knew about this plan?" Fury balled Grimmjow's fists.

Shawlong bowed his head. "Not until thirty minutes before we left."

"That makes it better, Shaw. Thanks so much."

"What would you have asked of me? If I'd told you, you would have charged in and gotten caught. You'd be dead, and Ulquiorra would be beyond help."

"At least I'd have done something!" Grimmjow paced, shoving his fingers through his hair. "Fuck! What are we gonna do? I've gotta get him out of Gilga's clutches, if anything happens to him—"

"That's why I called you here. We're going to get him back, I swear this to you."

"You'll help me?"

"I . . ." Shawlong's eyes darted away. "Bringing me along would be—"

Grimmjow clasped Shawlong's shoulder. "C'mon, Shaw. I need you."

Shawlong parted his lips as if to argue, but sighed softly. He gripped Grimmjow's arm, his eyes warm. "Of course. But if I were you, I'd bring others. You can't storm Nnoitra's hideout alone."

"D-Roy and Elforte can help. They haven't got a lick of respect for Nnoitra." They were a small force, but they were the only ones Grimmjow trusted in the gang. "Let's go. I'll call them on the drive over. We can't wait around, Ulquiorra's depending on us. I'm gonna kick that bastard Gilga's ass for this." Grimmjow jumped onto his bike. "Where's he keeping Ulquiorra?"

Shawlong climbed into his car. "In his second home, on the outskirts of Karakura. It's an hour and a half from the city."

Grimmjow called up D-Roy and Elforte. D-Roy whooped, laughing hysterically. "Yes! Been waiting from the day to cut the head off that asshole mantis! What's that? Oh, my buddy Nakim wants in on the action, can he come?"

"This ain't a playdate, D-Roy. But if you're sure he's trustworthy, the more the merrier."

"My, my," Elforte sighed. "And here I was about to settle in with a book."

"You saying you're not in?"

"My dear Grimmjow, the only thing I love more than a book is a bloodletting. I'll see you there, kiddies."

Grimmjow hung up, pleased he had others to watch his back. "Think we've got a chance, Shawlong!"

Through the window, Shawlong was silent, hands curled tight around the wheel. Rain began to fall, spattering Grimmjow's jacket. Nnoitra's home on the city outskirts awaited them beyond a gate crawling in ivy. It was a traditional home, made from wood, with a sprawling bamboo garden surrounding the house. Shawlong rolled down the windows, peering out into the down pour. Rain poured from the eaves and down drainpipes, rattling the rain chains hanging below the pipes. As they approached, the guards, each tattooed and bulky with muscle, gate marched toward them. Grimmjow's fingers curled around the handle of his pistol.

"Turn back around!"

Grimmjow opened fire. The guard's head snapped back, blood ran in a river down his forehead. With a crack of gunfire, the other guard went down. Shawlong stepped out, pistol smoking. Grimmjow followed, running up toward the gate. It looked easy enough to climb over. Distant voices echoed from beyond, raised in alarm.

"We're in for one hell of a fight. Wonder how many guys he's got in there." Grimmjow checked the ammunition in his pistol.

Headlights lit up the road behind them. Elforte hopped out of his car. D-Roy ran up to join them. His friend, Nakim, was a very wide man with a square face. He looked as if he could break Grimmjow's neck with his bare hands.

"I like this guy," Grimmjow said, giving D-Roy a nudge.

"Let's kick some ass!" D-Roy said, eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Shawlong, you've been before. You know your way around, so once we're beyond the gate—"

"I'm not going a step further." Something cold pressed against Grimmjow's temple.

"Shawlong, what the hell are you doing?" D-Roy's voice was shrill with panic.

Grimmjow's heart sunk as he looked up the barrel of the gun into Shawlong's face. His eyes were dark with misery.

Grimmjow closed his eyes tight. He realized now that some part of himself had expected this. He'd known the moment he'd seen Shawlong's reluctance, but he'd wanted to believe he was an exception to Shawlong. Now he was paying for his weakness with his life, and Ulquiorra's.

"I've told you from the start where my loyalties lie, Grimmjow. Without Nnoitra-sama, I would have nothing. I can't let you kill him, not without saying I tried to stop you."

"I'll kill you!" D-Roy roared. He lunged for his pistol and Elforte restrained him.

"Don't, you idiot!"

"How could you do this? You were like a brother to me, man!" D-Roy struggled against Elforte.

Shawlong's face remained expressionless, all but his eyes which gleamed with unshed tears.

Grimmjow rose slowly. "D-Roy, calm the fuck down. Leave this to me."

"Glad you brought friends?" Shawlong's voice trembled. "You'll need them. Anyone who survives against me will still have a chance at rescuing Sousuke's son. I'm not such a demon now, am I?"

"Real considerate, Shaw." Grimmjow didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave Ulquiorra in Nnoitra's clutches. Without Shawlong, he'd still be a stray living off the streets. His hand trembled as he squeezed his gun. "Come on, Shaw. You owe me more than a bullet in the back."

"That I do." Shawlong took several steps back.

Grimmjow's finger wrapped around the trigger. Memories came rushing back to him of nights spent on Shawlong's sofa as a runaway teen, waking early to eat breakfast with him the next day. Shawlong wasn't always there when they woke up, but he was insistent that they have dinner together. They'd talk about their day, Grimmjow bursting with excitement to tell him about his first trial as an initiate into Nnoitra's gang.

The pistol threatened to fall from his grip. After losing his own father, Shawlong had helped fill the void in his life.

"Come on now," A smile lit up Shawlong's eyes. "That's not the look of a man, but a frightened boy. Show it to me, Grimmjow; the resolve of a man who's found something he wants to fight for. Unless, of course, you're still a boy at heart."

Grimmjow would do this. If this was their last meeting, he wouldn't die a disappointment in Shawlong's eyes. He gripped his pistol tight.

"One last thing," Shawlong said. "If that man means as much to you as you claim he does—don't miss."

Shawlong's pistol gleamed as he took aim, and Grimmjow's pistol rose to meet him. Twin cracks of gunfire echoed for miles into the night.

* * *

The reflection of the rain streaked Nnoitra's face as it ran down the windowpane, like water running down the stone face of a leering gargoyle. Ulquiorra knelt on the floor, his arms bound behind his back. His shoulders ached, and the ropes cut off circulation in his hands.

He'd seen the other rooms of the house on his way in. One wouldn't have guessed it belonged to a crime boss, though the location was quite remote. The entrance was scattered with shoes like any other entry way in Japan. The tatami mats were bouncy under foot, and produced a scent that reminded Ulquiorra of Orihime's house where he'd spent many days as a boy. Sliding doors paneled with paper were swept open one after the other, revealing a quaint dining room with a squat table and cushions to kneel on. Then they'd ushered him upstairs, past bedrooms with unkempt futons to the room he was in now.

The moment the door slid open, the stench of blood hit Ulquiorra's nose. Old bloodstains crusted the tatami beneath his feet. Bullet holes peppered the walls, and rivers of blood had dried on the wall. How many people had died in this room? It seemed likely Ulquiorra would join them.. A part of Ulquiorra, the hopeful part he hadn't managed to quash, wanted to believe his father would finally realize the love he had for him and pay whatever it cost to ensure his safety.

What a joke. His father had all but disowned him. He wouldn't spare a single coin for Ulquiorra's safe return. If his father refused to pay the ransom then Ulquiorra was of no use to Nnoitra.

If it came to that, then—

_Am I ready to die? No. Not really. Only an hour ago, it felt like my life was only just beginning. There was so much I'd only realized I wanted to do._

_Will anyone miss me? Will they even know I'm gone, or will my body end up somewhere in the woods?_

He had no idea how his father would react to his death. If Orihime got the news, she would break down.

_Poor girl. I've brought her so much pain. I don't think I ever made it clear how much I valued her friendship. Perhaps it's best I leave her alone for good. I never deserved a friend like her._

The wind howled around the eaves, rain lashed at the windows. Nnoitra paced up and down, glowering out at the storm.

_He's been quiet this whole time. He took my phone away, I believe he called my father. So is he waiting?_

"Excuse me, yakuza, did you speak to my father?"

A single eye, lidded and bored-looking, flicked in Ulquiorra's direction. "It's Nnoitra-sama to you. Keep your trap shut. Pompous prick."

Ulquiorra kept quiet, stewing in uncertainty. He wondered where Grimmjow was. He was likely already far from Karakura Town. The thought left an ache in his chest. Words couldn't express the joy and sorrow he'd felt when he realized Grimmjow's love had been genuine all along, only to realize they'd be parting ways.

_Don't come for me. Promise me that, Grimmjow. Don't throw your life away. You deserve that future we talked about. For making me feel like I am finally worth something, even to just one person, you've given me all I ever needed._

"You matter to me," Grimmjow had told him. As if that were all that mattered, the world be damned. And to Ulquiorra, it truly was.

_I'll never ask you for anything more than that._

"Fucking hell . . . what's taking so long?" Nnoitra seethed. Ulquiorra looked at him, wondering if his father was coming after all. Nnoitra's steely gaze caught Ulquiorra's. "The fuck are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Ulquiorra averted his gaze and stared at the wallpaper, peeling in a corner.

Boots clumped across the floor, a shadow fell over him. Ulquiorra looked up and found Nnoitra towering over him. "You know, there's a lot I hate in this world," Nnoitra growled, lip curled as if Ulquiorra were dung at his feet. "Women. Kids. Especially women, the fucking weaklings. But I sure as hell hate rich assholes like you."

"Why?" Ulquiorra asked, his voice dry.

"People like you act like you own this world and everything in it. I served under some arrogant fuck like you and your pops a while back. My predecessor. He was a good man. Cunning, powerful. But he was too damn arrogant for his own good, thought he was above everyone who served him. I proved to him just how wrong he was."

"You killed him."

A grin curled Nnoitra's lips, as if he were looking back on a fond memory. "And took his place as the leader this organization needed."

Stomach churning, Ulquiorra asked, "Was he the first person you killed?"

The smile disappeared. "No. The first person I ever killed was . . . now, this is a good story, Cifer. We've got time to hear it."

Ulquiorra stayed silent, wishing Nnoitra would back away. Having him so near was unsettling. He felt like prey.

Nnoitra chuckled, eye rolling to the side as he cast his memory back. He ran his hand through strands of greasy hair. "This house has been in my family for generations. I grew up here, you know. I don't have any pleasant childhood memories, my parents despised each other, you see. Never really understood why they were married, the bitch I called my mother was always yelling at him, and he was hitting her if she wasn't doing the same. She'd cower and beg him to stop. She knew how to dish out a beating, but turn the tables on her and she was weak and pathetic."

Ulquiorra's skin turned cold, unnerved as Nnoitra revealed such disturbing details of his past in such a blasé tone of voice.

"My old man had enough and left in the night. So with him gone, I was ma's new victim and because I wasn't big and strong like my father, she wasn't afraid to make my life a living fucking hell. I stayed on top of my chores, tried to stay on her good side. I was taking out the trash one day when I found clothes in the bottom of the garbage bag. My father always wore this stupid tee shirt of his favorite music group, and there it was, ripped and covered in blood. The knife she'd used to kill him was wrapped up with it."

The hairs on the back of Ulquiorra's neck stood on end. "That's enough. I don't need to hear anymore."

"But this is the best part!" Nnoitra's knee shook the floor as he knelt. Spidery fingers curled in Ulquiorra's hair, nails digging deep into his scalp. "She found me going through the trash, told me I'd join daddy in the backyard. So I grabbed the knife and ran, ran into this very room. She pounded on the door, screaming, "Let me in! Let me in, you little shit!"" He shook Ulquiorra's head. Ulquiorra gnashed his teeth as needs of pain pricked his scalp. Ulquiorra's head struck the mats, his vision spun.

Something shattered. A smile split Nnoitra's face in two as he knelt before Ulquiorra, clutching a jagged blade of glass in his fist. "So I did. I cut her once, right here." Searing pain radiated from Ulquiorra's stomach as Nnoitra drew the tip of the shard across his skin, shredding his shirt.

"Stop it," Ulquiorra gasped.

"Right here." Nnoitra's voice trembled with fury as he sliced the blade across Ulquiorra's cheek. His skin split like paper and began to sting, warmth trickled down his cheek. "Here." Another gash opened across Ulquiorra's chest. Blood ran in hot rivers down his skin, staining his shirt crimson.

"Then,"

His vision turned white as his head struck the floor. Blood left a coppery taste in his mouth as he bit down on his cheek. His head throbbed from where Nnoitra had struck him. Nnoitra's weight came down on him, he wrestled Ulquiorra onto his back. Ulquiorra held his breath as the shard of glass pressed against his throat.

"I killed her."

"Don't," Ulquiorra whispered. "You can have whatever you want. My father—"

"Oh, he's on his way, don't you worry. I thought I'd keep you alive, Cifer, I really did but I'm so fucking tired of this whole ordeal. Tired of sucking the cocks of rich assholes while my own men conspire behind my backs. He'll give me the money, and I'll kill him, too."

"No—"

The blade cut into his throat, not deep, but enough to leave Ulquiorra paralyzed with despair.

Gunfire cracked outside. Nnoitra whirled toward the window. "What in the hell?"

For a moment, all was quiet, then the screaming started. Pops of gunfire filled every hall and corridor. From the stupefied expression on Nnoitra's face, Ulquiorra wanted to say this wasn't going according to plan.

All fell silent, then the stairs creaked, one after the other. The paper-paneled wall ruptured behind them. Shards of wood flew in every direction. Nnoitra whirled around, gun raised, and it was blasted out of his grip and soared across the room.

The sight of Grimmjow standing tall in the center of the ruined wall took Ulquiorra's breath away. Fury blazed within those electric eyes, his lips were set in a tight scowl. His heated gaze swept from Nnoitra then landed on Ulquiorra. His expression softened and a grin spread easily across his face.

"Yo, Ulquiorra."


	15. Chapter 15

As he gazed upon Ulquiorra, the greatest relief swept over Grimmjow. He was alive. It wasn't too late, they could still be together. Grimmjow would destroy anything that came between them. Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach when he noticed the blood streaking Ulquiorra's face, crimson staining his shirt.

Nnoitra sneered. "Jaegerjaquez. Come for your boyfriend, huh? You're softer than even I could imagine." A single eye glanced at his gun, lying several feet behind him.

"Pick it up," Grimmjow growled. "Hurry. I want everyone to know I blew a hole in Nnoitra Gilga's head before he even had time to pull the trigger."

"Cocky son of a—"

Nnoitra lunged, the pistol gleamed in the lamplight as he whirled around and took aim. Gunfire cracked, bullets gouged holes in the paper paneling of the walls. He'd underestimated Nnoitra's speed while his own bullet soared past Nnoitra's head. He charged for Nnoitra, closing the distance as a bullet pierced the tatami mat near his ankle. He plowed his gun into Nnoitra's gut.

Nnoitra doubled over and tackled him to the floor. Face twisted in rage, Nnoitra drew back his fist. Grimmjow saw white, his neck snapped to the side, numb all over except for the throbbing pain in his jaw.

_"Show it to me; the resolve of a man who's found someone to fight for."_

_Twin cracks of gunfire split the night. Shawlong's head flew back and blood ran in a river between his eyes. Grimmjow ran to him before Shawlong could hit the floor, wrapping him tight in his arms as they both crumpled to the ground._

_"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Shawlong." As the grief tightened his throat, Grimmjow was unable to discern if it was rain coursing down his cheeks or his own tears._

He couldn't disappoint Shawlong. He wouldn't let the old man die for nothing. He struck, bashing his gun into the side of Nnoitra's head. Nnoitra tumbled off in a tangle of gangly limbs, his gun went flying.

Grimmjow struck, ramming his knee into Nnoitra's gut. Nnoitra doubled over with a wheeze. Grimmjow fumbled behind him for his gun and found it out of reach. Nnoitra ran, charging for his gun.

"Grimmjow!" Ulquiorra called, kicking Grimmjow's pistol across the floor toward him. Grimmjow lunged for it just as Nnoitra grabbed his gun. Grimmjow lurched to his feet and by the time Nnoitra turned around, Grimmjow had slammed the muzzle of his pistol against the side of Nnoitra's head.

"Can't tell you how long I've waited for this," Grimmjow growled.

He squeezed the trigger and Nnoitra slammed the crown of his head into Grimmjow's forehead. He hadn't expected such a dirty move from Nnoitra, and found himself disarmed again. Glass cracked beneath their feet, rain hurtled in through the shattered window and spattered on their skin and clothes.

Grimmjow stumbled back and just barely blocked another blow to his head. He sized Nnoitra's wrist to keep the gun away from his head and slammed his elbow into Nnoitra's gut. Nnoitra went slack and Grimmjow smacked the gun from his hand and wrenched his skinny arm behind his back. He whirled Nnoitra and hurled him toward the shattered windowpane where jagged rows of glass pointed upwards like fangs.

He slammed Nnoitra's throat down on the windowsill, throwing all his weight down on Nnoitra's back. Nnoitra choked and sputtered, gargling on blood as glass tore his throat his shreds. He twitched and shuddered, blood poured down the windowsill and spattered the mats.

Nnoitra ceased to move, his body toppled over. Blood pooled beneath his throat, his single eye bulged and stared without seeing. Grimmjow slumped, exhausted as all the breath came rushing back to him. His hands trembled, his heart raced.

_I did it, Shawlong._

He hurled a kick into Nnoitra's stomach and leaned into the wall as his legs trembled. He looked past Nnoitra's corpse where Ulquiorra knelt, looking just as breathless, wide eyes drinking in Grimmjow's presence.

"Grimmjow, you're bleeding." Ulquiorra's voice was barely above a whisper.

As the adrenaline faded, Grimmjow's wounds began to ache, but all that mattered was that they were both alive. He stumbled to Ulquiorra and dropped to his knees, fumbling with the ropes around his wrist.

"It's over," Grimmjow promised him. "All of it; the crime, the lies. That part of me died with him." He extended his hand. Whatever happened next was up to Ulquiorra. He would never ask him to settle. His pride could never handle it unless Ulquiorra took him at his best.

Though Ulquiorra's hand trembled, when he grasped Grimmjow's it was steady and sure. Grimmjow tugged him to his feet and into his arms. He closed his eyes and savored the way Ulquiorra's heart raced in time to his, the smell of his hair. He was so warm, so alive. Grimmjow bundled his face in Ulquiorra's shoulder.

"If you'd died on me, I'd have killed every single one of these bastards a second time."

Small but powerful arms fumbled around his shoulders and held him tight. "If you'd died, I'd forever think of you as the stupidest man alive for taking such a risk."

"Can't have that, can we?" Grimmjow snorted, letting his fingers drift through soft ebony hair.

Ulquiorra grunted. Grimmjow released him, glowering at the bloodstain on his shirt.

"Mother fucker . . ." he seethed. He tore off the sleeve of his shirt and handed it to Ulquiorra. "Is it deep?"

"No, but it stings."

"Hold that to the wound. We gotta get you patched up before we leave. I ain't dragging you to the hospital with cuts all over you."

Grimmjow went to the bathroom and rifled through the medicine cabinet. Grimmjow gnashed his teeth to hide any signs of pain and dabbed some cotton pads with hydrogen peroxide. He rubbed at the cuts on Ulquiorra's cheek. Ulquiorra's jaw tightened but he didn't complain despite the stinging.

"Here, you have your share of injuries," Ulquiorra mumbled, splashing a cotton pad with hydrogen peroxide and applying some to the gashes on Grimmjow's face. It stung and Grimmjow pursed his lips. "He hit you hard."

Grimmjow smirked, chest swelling. "Yeah, but he's dead. I may not look like a winner, but I sure as hell feel like it."

"Won't his men be angry when they hear about how he died?"

"I'll be long gone from Karakura by the time word spreads. I'd ask you to join me, but . . . it ain't gonna be sunshine and roses. We'd be in hiding until we make it to Tokyo. Besides, I ain't about to ask you to take off with me at such short notice."

Ulquiorra's brow furrowed. He took Grimmjow's face in his hands, curling his fingers in his hair. Ulquiorra's lips touched his, soft and reassuring. "If you really think I'd let you go alone, you're an idiot. I should have gone with you when you gave the camera back, I wish I had. It wouldn't have come to this."

Joy fluttered through his stomach and he couldn't wrestle the smile from his face. He gripped the front of Ulquiorra's shirt and pulled, bringing their lips together. His arm wound around Ulquiorra's waist and pulled him close, until Ulquiorra was almost sitting in his lap.

"Let's get outta here," Grimmjow panted, nibbling a supple lower lip.

Ulquiorra grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. They ran downstairs and found D-Roy, Elforte, and Nakim standing over a pile of dead yakuza.

"Boss, you did it!" D-Roy ran over and clapped Grimmjow on the back. Grimmjow cringed. "Man, you look like hell!"

"Then Nnoitra's dead, and Shawlong didn't die for nothing," Elforte said. "He would be proud."

Grimmjow didn't say anything. Truthfully, he'd half expected to see Shawlong waiting for him, wearing a warm smile and that twinkle in his eye that said all he wouldn't say. "We need to bury him."

"I'll make arrangements," Elforte said. "You two need to get out of here and find somewhere to lay low. I'll call you for the funeral. He always hated large gatherings, so I'll make sure he has a private burial."

Grimmjow squeezed Elforte's shoulder and clapped D-Roy on the back. "Thanks, guys." He led Ulquiorra out the back door. He didn't want to go out the front. He'd walk past Shawlong's body, and he wasn't sure he could handle seeing him spread eagle and staring up at the sky.

He took the long way around and returned to the car. He didn't want to get in Shawlong's, it would smell like him and remind him of the conversations they'd had. Shawlong had cared for that car as if it were a child to him. He'd had it for years, and would turn up his nose if anyone dared suggest replacing it with a better model.

"Grimmjow?"

He jolted back to the present, Shawlong's smile and the jazz he always played on the speakers vanished. He fumbled around in the compartment of his bike and found a spare helmet. He peeled off his leather jacket and handed it to Ulquiorra.

"It's pouring rain, won't you be cold?"

"With you nestled up behind me? Forget it." Grimmjow smirked.

Ulquiorra slipped it on. It was a size too big but Grimmjow thought he looked hot as hell in leather.

He climbed on his motorbike and Ulquiorra joined him, arms tight around his waist. They sped from the driveway and soon, Nnoitra's house was swallowed up by the rainstorm.

Ulquiorra squeezed Grimmjow's middle, a nervous sigh reached Grimmjow's ears.

"Something wrong?" Grimmjow called.

"Nnoitra made it sound as if my father were coming to get me. Do you have a phone?"

"In my jacket pocket!"

Ulquiorra placed a call, then hung up with a sigh. "Why won't he answer? Is it possible something happened?"

"I don't know." Grimmjow answered. In hostage type situations, Nnoitra usually requested that whoever would pay the ransom came alone. First sign of cop cars, and the hostage died. He swallowed hard, trying not to imagine what might have happened if he were too late. "Feels weird, though. Nnoitra would have called him the moment he got you in his home, so your dad should have arrived by now. Over thirty minutes ago, at least."

Cold hands burrowed into Grimmjow's shirt. "Unless he truly isn't coming." The bitterness in his voice made Grimmjow take one hand off the handle and squeezed his cold hand.

"If he isn't coming, then he's sure as hell not worth your time, Ulquiorra."

"I thought at least he would . . . forget it."

"Ulquiorra—"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." Ulquiorra's voice was cold and hard, and he said nothing else for the duration of the drive. They pulled up outside the motel Grimmjow had visited prior to driving to Shawlong's.

The receptionist was the same woman from before, snoring with her head on the desk. She gave a jolt when Grimmjow rapped on the desk and screamed at the sight of their bruised and battered faces. "I'm so sorry! Oh my God, you frightened me!"

Grimmjow asked for one room, double bed. Glancing apprehensively between them, she fumbled to get the key off the hook. "Just . . . don't cause any trouble."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart." Grimmjow snatched up the key and led Ulquiorra to their room. He stopped to ogle a vending machine selling condoms and lubricant, and used some spare change in his shoe to buy some. Just in case.

The door opened on a small room, big enough to fit a bed and a single bathroom. Grimmjow took a whiff of the air and decided it smelled cleaner that most motels he'd stayed in. The rain rapped the windows and the distant roar of a plane echoed through the sky.

Ulquiorra plopped onto the bed and leaned down, lifting up the blankets.

"Lookin' for corpses under the bed?" Grimmjow asked, grinning as he sat beside him.

"You hear all sorts of stories about these places," Ulquiorra said, his eyes warm when he looked at Grimmjow. He was still worried, Grimmjow could tell by the way his hands fidgeted in his lap.

"Listen," Grimmjow's hand settled on Ulquiorra's thigh. "Whatever happens, from here on out, it's you and me. Everyone else can go to hell for all I care." Ulquiorra was all he needed, all he wanted. Whatever, whoever, tried to come between them, Grimmjow would crush.

Ulquiorra's breath warmed his lips. Grimmjow closed his eyes. He'd been determined to reach Ulquiorra before anything happened to him, but he'd been scared, more scared than he'd ever been. Grimmjow still couldn't believe that Ulquiorra was within his reach. With a quiet sigh, he leaned into Ulquiorra's body, pressing his forehead to Ulquiorra's. He gripped Ulquiorra's hands and held tight. They were warm.

_I'm so glad they're still warm. So glad he's here._

He wouldn't waste precious time trying to communicate these feelings as they raced through him. He pushed his mouth against Ulquiorra's, stifling the gasp from Ulquiorra's lips. Long, slender fingers weaved through his hair. Ulquiorra turned his body toward him so their chests could touch, rubbing together with every frantic breath.

An inquisitive tongue dampened his lower lip and Grimmjow let him in with a low moan, eager to taste him. A warm hand wandered up his shirt, tracing every muscle. A shiver ran down Grimmjow's spine, his cock strained the seat of his pants just knowing Ulquiorra wanted to touch him.

Before he got ahead of himself, Grimmjow pulled away. He wanted to memorize Ulquiorra's face, from the rosy flush in his cheeks, to the lust darkening those emerald eyes. He never wanted to take for granted that Ulquiorra was here in his arms. Not after tonight.

Ulquiorra claimed his lips, fumbling with the buttons to his shirt. Grimmjow helped him, pushing it from broad, pale shoulders. The button popped on Ulquiorra's dark jeans and Grimmjow wriggled them and his underwear down past his buttocks. He grasped Ulquiorra's hot, hard flesh, swirling his thumb around the swollen crown, already damp with need.

Grimmjow parted his lips around the warm skin of Ulquiorra's neck, running his tongue along the pulse that thundered faster with every eager touch of his mouth. He parted his lips around a dusky nipple, sucking hard until Ulquiorra leaned into his mouth, fingernails biting into his scalp.

"Grimmjow, wait."

Grimmjow panted, shooting him an impatient look. "What?" he asked, sipping at the shell of his ear.

"We've wasted enough time. I want you. Now."

Grimmjow's cock throbbed as that breathy command warmed his ear. He pushed Ulquiorra down to the mattress and fumbled in his jeans to find the lube. He was getting ready to open the condom when Ulquiorra said, "Don't. Not tonight."

Grimmjow's breath caught in his throat. He'd never gone without one, he'd never trusted anyone so implicitly before. "I haven't been with anyone else since the day we met. I don't want anyone else, I never will."

"Then stop talking." Ulquiorra draped his leg across Grimmjow's shoulder. Grimmjow slicked himself up and guided himself to Ulquiorra's entrance. He bit down on his lower lip as he penetrated him, sinking into his tight heat. He watched, mesmerized by the sight as he glided in, skin-to-skin.

"Fuck, Ulquiorra," he seethed, utterly overwhelmed. "How's it feel?"

Ulquiorra panted, squinting through eyes hazy with lust. "Amazing. I can feel every part of you."

Grimmjow thrust in deep, unable to stop himself. Ulquiorra fisted the sheets, back arching beautifully. Grimmjow's hands clambered to Ulquiorra's hips and tugged, burying himself in to the root. Grimmjow caught his breath and savored the way Ulquiorra squeezed around him so perfectly.

The pattering of the rain and the occasional roar of a passing plane all faded away. Nothing else mattered, only Ulquiorra, underneath him and looking at him in a way he looked at no one else. Grimmjow had never felt so intensely needed, so wanted. Loved. He wasn't one person anymore, living only for himself. They were one; one body, one soul.

As these tender feelings possessed him, feelings he'd never dreamed could come from him, Grimmjow blanketed Ulquiorra with his body. He tangled his fingers in Ulquiorra's hair and sought his hand, damp with sweat. Their lips clashed and Grimmjow declared every feeling he couldn't communicate with the touch of his lips.

Ulquiorra's arms wound around him, holding him desperately, moaning softly against their lips as Grimmjow drove into him with mounting urgency. Every rustle of the sheets and frantic creak of the mattress, every moan they passed from one mouth to the other spoke of the love words couldn't suffice.

Ulquiorra's legs circled Grimmjow's hips, and he pulled himself down to meet every heady thrust. Their bodies glided together, their shared sweat gave them just the right amount of friction. Ulquiorra raised his hips to press his cock tighter against Grimmjow's stomach.

"So good," Ulquiorra panted against Grimmjow's mouth, voice breaking as their bodies came together. "More, just like this."

Grimmjow slowed his thrusts, pulling out as far as he could stand. Ulquiorra raised his hips and Grimmjow bit back a gasp as his lover's tightness threatened to suck him in. He buried himself deep inside. His balls struck the back of Ulquiorra's round buttocks. He could feel it unraveling within him, devastating. He craved it, needed it.

"Close," Grimmjow panted. "Wanna come inside your tight ass so bad. Tell me how you want me."

Ulquiorra clasped the back of his neck, urging Grimmjow's mouth to his. "Come inside me."

Grimmjow wouldn't, not until he drove Ulquiorra completely over the edge. He nestled his face in Ulquiorra's neck, biting down as he plowed him hard, just the way Ulquiorra loved it. Nails bit into his back, his breath blazed wet and hot against Grimmjow's shoulder. His thighs tightened around Grimmjow's waist, body shuddering against him as he drove into him once, twice—

Grimmjow's name spilled from Ulquiorra's lips, among other indiscernible obscenities. Ulquiorra clung to him, hips snapping up against Grimmjow's waist as he came, spilling hot and wet between them. Ulquiorra clamped down around him and Grimmjow drove into him one final time before he came undone. Aftershocks wracked his body and all he could do was ride out his release and hold onto Ulquiorra as he was left to the mercy of his climax.

Grimmjow collapsed into Ulquiorra's arms, weak and struggling to remain conscious as exhaustion overcame him. "Fuck. I love you, Ulquiorra." He panted, not even sure Ulquiorra understood him. His face was still nestled in Ulquiorra's neck.

Ulquiorra's chest rose and fell. A trembling hand tangled in Grimmjow's hair. His lips wandered, warm against Grimmjow's cheek.

"You gonna say it back?" Grimmjow snapped, feeling vulnerable in his post-orgasm bliss.

"Sorry. I always thought it was obvious how I felt. To me, at least." Ulquiorra took his face in his hands. Nose to nose, Grimmjow pressed his forehead to Ulquiorra's, admiring the way his damp hair clung to his forehead. Ulquiorra was quiet, studying Grimmjow's eyes while a finger traced his jawline. "Of course I love you, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow grinned so hard it hurt.

"You doubted my feelings?" Ulquiorra's lips quirked into a beautiful, tender smile.

"Nah. Just wanted to hear you say it."

Ulquiorra chuckled deep in his chest and pulled Grimmjow down to taste his lips. He pulled back abruptly, frowning.

"What?"

"It's . . . leaking out."

Grimmjow took a moment to understand, then he doubled over into Ulquiorra's chest, holding him tight as he laughed. "Oh yeah. You're gonna be feeling me all day tomorrow; on the drive over to the airport, on the plane."

Ulquiorra made a face.

"Shit, reminds me, I need to buy tickets for a flight to Tokyo. In the morning." Grimmjow slumped into the pillows. He pulled out of Ulquiorra and rolled onto the space beside him.

"Going to sleep already?" Ulquiorra touched his wrist. "You've earned it. We should still clean up." He departed from bed. Grimmjow checked a glance at the perfect globes of his ass. Desire rippled through his stomach when he realized he could see his release gleaming on the back of Ulquiorra's thighs.

_Holy fuck. I'll never stop wanting this guy._

Ulquiorra returned with a cloth.

"Don't do me. I wanna smell like you when I wake up. Besides, we'll just do this all over again in the morning." He cracked a grin when Ulquiorra's eyes widened.

"You're quite insatiable."

"That's your fault."

Grimmjow took the cloth from Ulquiorra and wiped down Ulquiorra's stomach then between his thighs, gliding between his cheeks.

"Grimmjow. We need to get up early, so if you'd stop cupping my—"

Pouting his disappointment, Grimmjow chucked the washcloth into the hamper across the room. Ulquiorra dropped like a stone into the mattress beside him and nestled close so Grimmjow could bundle him in his arms.

Content to his bones, Grimmjow held Ulquiorra close and planted a kiss to his hair before he drifted into sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

The following day, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow left the shower together. Grimmjow insisted on towel-drying Ulquiorra's hair so while he toweled him off, Ulquiorra buttoned Grimmjow's shirt. "Did you get tickets for our flight?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Yeah. It was short notice, so the only flight I could get was early tonight."

Ulquiorra couldn't complain. He had to speak to Orihime and tell her goodbye. As for his father . . .

"May I borrow your phone? I need to get in touch with my father, let him know I'm all right."

Ulquiorra borrowed his phone while Grimmjow ducked into the bathroom to blow his hair dry. Ulquiorra took in a breath, drumming his fingers on his knee.

"Hello, this is Dr. Tanaka. Who's speaking?"

"Sorry," Ulquiorra checked the number he'd dialed. It was his father's. Confusion twisted up his insides. "I'm calling for Aizen Sousuke. I'm his son, Ulquiorra."

"We've been trying to reach you. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your father was in an accident."

Something cold dropped into the pit of his stomach. "I'm . . . sorry. What?"

_No._

"He's in critical condition."

_He was coming to get me. He never showed up, I should have known something had—_

"Ulquiorra-san?"

"I'm coming over now, where is he?" Ulquiorra's knees wobbled as he ran to the door. The doctor gave him the address. Ulquiorra hung up just as Grimmjow stepped out of the bathroom.

"What's wrong?" Grimmjow's brow furrowed.

"My father, he's—" What did he say? Was his father dying? "He was in an accident, critical condition. I have to . . ."

"Shit." Grimmjow went to his side and grabbed his jacket. "I'll take you. Come on." They ran to the elevator. Ulquiorra's heart pounded against his chest. His stomach churned and every breath was sharp in his lungs.

Next thing he knew, he was holding Grimmjow tight as they sped toward the hospital on his bike. He barely felt the bitter wind on his fingers, and the deafening roar of the bike was oddly quiet in his ears. They drove past an ice cream shop on the corner where his father had taken him once as a small boy. He'd begged and begged and his father relented.

_"Just once. Sugar isn't good for you."_

But his father had one, too, and they'd eaten together in the park across the street. Ulquiorra didn't remember what they'd talked about, or if they'd spoken at all.

_All my life I've wondered, "Does my father love me?" When I thought I had an answer, he'd shut me out to focus on work. I genuinely didn't believe he'd come for me last night. Why should he after I'd disrespected him? Otherwise I'd have stayed, I'd have waited. All my life, you've been an enigma, Father._

Ulquiorra left Grimmjow's side when they arrived at the ER. Rooms sped by and became a blur as he ran. He threw open the door, struggling to catch his breath. Aizen Sousuke, the giant of the automobile industry, lay twisted in bed. His hips were bent in an abnormal direction, bandages covered his arms and his face. Ulquiorra gripped the doorknob for support, throat too tight to breathe.

"His organs are failing, Ulquiorra-san. He doesn't have much time left."

His lips trembling, Ulquiorra only nodded. The doctor closed the door quietly behind him. He sat heavily at the end of the bed and slumped over, unable to look at the broken man in bed beside him.

_Was there anything I more I could have done to be the son you wanted?_

"Ulquiorra?" His father's voice was barely above a whisper. His breath was slow and shallow, and sounded as if something were rattling in his chest.

Ulquiorra clasped his father's hand and held tight. "I'm here. I'm all right."

His father's eyelids fluttered. He looked as if he could hardly bare to stay awake. "Thank goodness."

Ulquiorra swallowed hard, blinking back the emotions burning his eyes. "Grimmjow saved me. We're going to move to Tokyo, then maybe to Thailand so we can marry."

"Not . . . as if I could stop you if I tried." Aizen rasped, tired eyes regarding Ulquiorra. There was no coldness in them, only resignation. Acceptance, if bitter.

"No." Ulquiorra managed a weak smile. "He makes me happy."

"Then I suppose I must congratulate you. It's not the happiness I'd have chosen. But it's yours. Your life." Aizen grimaced, raising his other arm, fingers inching across the sheets and clasp Ulquiorra's hand. "In the end, that's the best you can hope for your children." He grasped Ulquiorra's sleeve and tugged. Ulquiorra squared his jaw, willing himself to be strong for his father. He brought his face to his father's shoulder and put his arms around him as gently as he could.

"Thank you." Something coursed hot and wet down his cheeks.

"The business if yours, if you'll have it."

Ulquiorra couldn't deny him his final request. He wouldn't let his father's life work fall into the wrong hands. "I will. I won't disappoint you. I'll make you proud."

His father held him tight. "I am, son."

* * *

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra cancelled their flight in the wake of his father's deteriorating condition. Ulquiorra wanted to spend the rest of the day at the hospital. Any second he could spend with his father was precious to him. He'd spent years longing to get away from him, but he'd never wanted things to end like this between them. He had to make up for the time they'd lost.

Orihime came to visit him and they had lunch at a café across the street. She squeezed him tight. "I'm so sorry, Ulquiorra-kun."

Ulquiorra didn't know what to say and picked at his ramen. "He's dying. He's finally treating me like his son, accepting what makes me happy. Why couldn't things be like this before?"

"It's not fair, I know." Orihime took his hand. "He's probably scared. You're the only family he has. He doesn't want to die alone."

"Silly, isn't it? We take for granted all the time we have. We don't realize until we're gasping for breath just how short and uncertain life is. We wasted so much time, and I've wasted yours by making you go along with my father's ridiculous ideas."

"No, no! It wasn't a waste of time!" Orihime flailed her arms, struggling to assure him. "Because of you, I met Kurosaki-kun again. The minute he heard the marriage was off, he asked me out!" A smile that could rival the sun burst across her face. "It's like I'm reliving my high school dream. That wouldn't have happened without you."

Ulquiorra's lips quirked. At least one of them saw the silver lining in this.

"And, Ulquiorra-kun," she touched his arm. "No matter what happens, you have Grimmjow-kun. I bet you'll have to pester him to leave you alone. He really cares about you."

Grimmjow had been his rock throughout his father's decline. He'd brought Ulquiorra breakfast and sat with him. They talked about anything and everything, and he managed to make Ulquiorra laugh even when it felt impossible. "The feeling is mutual."

Orihime squealed. "You're blushing!"

"No, I'm not." Ulquiorra insisted, touching his face. It was warm.

"I can't wait for the wedding!"

"That's some time off. We'll both be so busy until then."

Orihime pouted. "I'll miss you."

"I'll be in touch."

They parted ways with a tight, long hug. Ulquiorra returned to the hospital and he and Grimmjow sat with his father until visiting hours were over. Aizen was barely conscious, but Grimmjow said they'd spoken briefly when Aizen had the energy.

"What did you talk about?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "He didn't say much, think I talked his ear off, though. Mostly about you."

"He's still holding on," Ulquiorra murmured, trying to squash the foolish part of him that was hopeful his father might magically recover.

"Maybe he doesn't wanna leave you," Grimmjow said.

Ulquiorra went and sat by his father's bed. Aizen's face was pale, his eyes sunken. He looked so skeletal and weak. Ulquiorra touched a frail arm and said, "You've fought hard enough, Father. I'm grateful for the time we've had. I promise I'll take care of the company. You don't have to worry." Though reluctant to leave him, Ulquiorra was exhausted. "I'm going to go now. I'll be back in the morning. I love you."

Ulquiorra's body weighted a thousand pounds as he stood. There was nothing more he could say or do. Grimmjow's hand fell warm and strong upon his shoulder and side-by-side, they left the hospital room together.

Ulquiorra was grateful he'd said all he wanted to say: Aizen Sousuke passed away that night and left behind a legacy.

* * *

Ulquiorra, Grimmjow and a handful of Aizen's closest business associates attended the funeral. Orihime stood by Ulquiorra's side, her hand gently on his shoulder. The pain of his father's loss came rushing back as they lowered the casket into the earth and he squared his jaw to keep himself together, blinking hard. Once the business associates went inside for the reception, Ulquiorra knelt before the mound of fresh earth. He had no regrets. His lifelong wish of finally connecting with his father had come true, no matter how short lived.

Grimmjow knelt beside him and took his hand. "I hate funerals. Always make you realize one day you'll be the one in the ground."

"Life is short and unexpected," Ulquiorra agreed. "If there's anything you want to wrap up before we leave for Tokyo, you should do it."

Grimmjow's brow furrowed, as if he'd read Ulquiorra's mind. "I can't see my parents, Ulquiorra. Not after what they did."

"That was years ago. It's possible they regret it."

"What should I care? If they were gonna regret it, they shouldn't have thrown me to the wolves."

"You haven't thought once about seeing them?"

Grimmjow hesitated. "Sometimes. I wonder how they're doing, if they miss me at all. But so what?"

Ulquiorra gripped his kneecap. "If you have any doubts, settle them now."

"It's not that simple," Grimmjow said bitterly.

"It could be."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes when Ulquiorra echoed his own words back at him.

"Unless you're scared of their response."

Grimmjow's brow twitched. "I am. A little. But if I knock on their door and they turn me away, at least I know I can stop wasting my time and energy on them. Fuck it. Fine, I'll see if I can get in touch with them."

Ulquiorra pulled him close to nestle his face in his shoulders. Words couldn't express the pride he felt for this man. He didn't want any regrets in their new life together. He craved a new beginning with Grimmjow by his side.

* * *

Grimmjow's heart roared as his fingers hovered over the keys. He hadn't called his parents in years, but their phone number was scratched into his memory like writing in an old wood wall. The years had left it faded, but he would never forget it.

_Fuck it. Just do it._

He pounded out the number and held his breath, feeling ready to throw up.

"Hello?"

His mother's voice robbed him of what little air he had. How long had it been since he'd heard her voice? A lump rose to his throat and he wrestled with his emotions.

"Hello?"

"It's me. Grimmjow."

"Oh. Oh, my . . ." Her voice trembled. Suddenly she called out, "Dear, it's Grimmjow!" Her voice was thick with emotion.

"Grimmjow? Son?" His father's gruff voice nearly undid him.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me." Grimmjow paced, pressing his fingers into his eyes as he struggled to keep himself together.

Laughter rumbled into his ear, shaky and joyful. "Where are you? How are you?"

How did he even answer that question? "I'm fine, I'm—"

_I'm alive, somehow. After what you people did to me._

The resentment gnawed at him. "I managed. It's been really, really fucking hard, but I managed. I'm alive."

His parents were silent. Had they really just expected him to be over it by now?

"Still gay, in case you were wondering."

"Grimmjow, we're so—"

"Look, I've got a lot I wanna say, and I'm not talking about this over the phone."

"Of course not! Come and meet us at that restaurant you used to like. What was it—"

Grimmjow remembered the ramen place as if it were yesterday. They'd gone every weekend before it all fell apart.

Stomach churning, he agreed to meet them. But if he at any point felt like they were going to justify and sweep their treatment of him under the rug, he was out and done. He pulled on his jacket. He grabbed Ulquiorra as he walked out of the bathroom. "You're coming with me."

"Are you sure they'll like that?" Ulquiorra asked, buttoning his shirt.

"Hell if I care. Maybe I'll make out with you in front of them just to piss them off."

He wouldn't say it aloud, but he needed support.

They drove to the restaurant and as the scent of fresh noodles and fish broth wafted to Grimmjow's nose, the memories swept over him. He'd had some of the best nights of his life in this noodle joint with his family. His dad shared stories about the buildings he was working on, his mother smiled radiantly while Grimmjow talked about school, all the while the fear grew within him. Would he ruin this happy moment if he told them his secret? Would they still love him?

He grasped Ulquiorra's hand and led him inside. He held his breath as he looked among the tables. They hadn't arrived yet. "Wait here," he said, shoving Ulquiorra into a booth.

"Are you sure they should meet me already?"

"Just sit here and be quiet." Grimmjow took a seat across the room and had three menus delivered. He realized he probably wouldn't eat, his stomach was queasy with nerves. The bell jingled. He looked up at his parents and it was as if he'd gone back in time. They were older now, but for a moment, he felt like the boy he'd once been. An unexpected eruption of feeling flooded through him.

At the sight of him, tears filled his mother's eyes. His father smiled in a way that was warm yet guarded.

"My boy," his mother wiped her eyes and went to meet him. "You've grown. My, you've grown."

Grimmjow rose on trembling legs and let his mother walk into his arms. She held him tight but Grimmjow's arms could only hover at her shoulders, afraid to commit in case it all crashed down. The warmth of her arms inspired memories from his boyhood. He'd forgotten how safe a mother's embrace could be. His throat closed up and despite all his doubts, he found himself holding her tight.

He had no idea how to be himself around them. They were little more than strangers to him. Once, they'd been the center of his universe. What were they now? Was it possible they could still have that? Grimmjow didn't even know if he wanted that. Over his mother's shoulder, he met Ulquiorra's gaze. This was for him, as much as it was for Grimmjow. He didn't want to begin their new life together with any regrets.

His father extended a hand and Grimmjow clasped it. "Son. How are you?" His father's voice trembled as he pulled Grimmjow close and held him tight. He still smelled like the same aftershave, though he'd traded hard muscle for a beer belly.

His father separated, wiping at the corners of his eyes and said nothing else.

"Shall we sit?" his mother asked.

They sat, his parents beside each other, Grimmjow in the booth facing them. His mouth was dry and he took a hearty gulp of water. Nothing helped. He was too nervous.

"How are you?" His mother asked, her eyes all aglow as she looked at him.

Grimmjow couldn't answer. He was remembering the last time she'd looked at him, her makeup smudged from crying tears of shame. He forced out an answer, "Okay. Okay..."

"I like your tattoos." His mother eyed them with a smile. It was a suspicious smile.

He couldn't figure out how to explain his tattoos. There was no way to simplify what he'd been through. Anger curled his fingers.

A waitress came to take their order. His mother ordered green tea. Grimmjow's lips twitched. She always did. His father ordered a Sapporo. "Should I make that two, Grimm?"

"No. Don't really like Sapporo."

His father frowned. "Really? You and I used to drink it all the time!"

"That's why." Grimmjow couldn't stop himself.

His father's eyes widened and he looked down at the table, lips pursed. His mother averted her eyes with a shaky sigh.

There was no way he could do this, no way he could bury the past and act as if it had never happened. "It just reminded me of you, Dad. I didn't wanna be reminded of you." His fingernails bit into the fabric of his jeans. He looked past them at Ulquiorra who watched him intently over his tea. Ulquiorra met his gaze. Without saying a word, Grimmjow knew that at the slightest hint things were going south, Ulquiorra would get up and leave with him. He didn't have to stay if he didn't want to.

"Grimmjow." His mother's eyes were shining with tears. "We're so—"

"What we did," his father cut in, scratching hopelessly at the back of his head. "It was wrong. It was just such a surprise—"

"You're damn right it was wrong." Grimmjow's voice trembled, his heart raced as all the years of anger and hurt reached a boiling point. "I went from cheap hotel and cheap hotel for months."

"We offered to send you money," his father began.

"That makes it all better, doesn't it, Dad? What you shoulda done was let me fucking come home and tell that you'd accept me no matter what, 'cause that's what families are supposed to do!"

His father bowed his head and Grimmjow only felt angrier when guilt bit him in the rear. "I know that now. If I could go back—"

"Well, you can't, and I'll be carrying all the years I spent on the street with me for my life. See these?" he wrenched up his sleeves and bore the entirety of the tattoos crawling up his wrist. "I didn't get them for pleasure. I had to join the yakuza. I was desperate."

His mother crumpled, her face in her hands. His father put his arm around her shoulders and said, "Grimmjow, we know we were wrong. We're here to tell you that we're sorry. We want to be a part of your life again."

Grimmjow didn't know what he wanted. Maybe someday, he could find it in him to open up his battered heart to his parents. But seeing them again, listening to them try and justify their behavior, opened up the wounds he'd thought had finally closed.

"Are you ready to order?" the waitress shuffled as she looked from one morose face to the other.

"No. I'm not staying." Grimmjow stood.

"Grimmjow, please, wait!" His mother and father pursued him to the door. Grimmjow strode to Ulquiorra's table and extended a hand. Ulquiorra stood and offered a bow while his parents looked on in confusion.

"I'm Ulquiorra Cifer, Grimmjow's—"

"He's my boyfriend." Grimmjow put his arm around Ulquiorra's shoulders and held tight. "If you wanna be a part of my life, then you've gotta accept him, too. Because he's gonna be a big part of it; we're moving to Thailand and we're gonna get married. If you don't like that, I really don't care. If you can do that, then we can talk about starting over."

Ulquiorra clasped his hand and held tight.

His father nodded his understanding, head hanged low like a sad dog. He looked Grimmjow in the eyes and said, "I can do that."

"Of course, dear." His mother bowed her head to Ulquiorra. "Pleased to meet you, and thank you for looking after our boy."

"It's a privilege," Ulquiorra replied, his eyes warm.

Emotion clawed at Grimmjow's throat. Perhaps this was the start of something. He grabbed Ulquiorra's hand and with a final glance at his parents, he left the restaurant.

They drove far away enough until Grimmjow had to pull over. He slumped against the handlebars as wave after wave of suffocated emotions came to the surface. Ulquiorra held on tight to his shoulders. "I'm proud of you," Ulquiorra told him, his lips warm and gentle against Grimmjow's ear.

Grimmjow reached around to grab his hand. He squeezed tight and said nothing.

"How are you feeling?" Ulquiorra asked.

Grimmjow raised his head, unafraid of the emotions laid bare in his eyes. He stood and enveloped Ulquiorra in his arms.

"Alright, actually. Said all I needed to say. I really wanted to curse 'em out more."

Ulquiorra rubbed his shoulders. "You handled it well."

Grimmjow pulled back to gaze into emerald eyes, then he touched his lips to Ulquiorra's.

"I hadn't realized we'd decided on Thailand," Ulquiorra said, as he reclined on the leather seat, looking damn near irresistible.

"Seriously? We talked about this for, like, an hour!"

Ulquiorra chuckled at his exasperation. "I'm not opposed to the idea. I just wasn't sure we were on the same page."

Grimmjow grinned. "And are we?"

"It sounds idyllic."

"Use real words."

Ulquiorra stood, looping his arms around Grimmjow's neck. They kissed, Ulquiorra nibbled at his lower lip. "I love it."

Grimmjow's arms wound around his shoulders and he leaned their foreheads together, unable to wipe the grin off his face. "Now you're talkin', pretty boy."


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and enthusiasm for the story from start to finish! I've had a lot of fun revisiting this pairing. Until next time! <3

_Three years later_

"I now pronounce you husbands. You may kiss."

The words had hardly left the officiant's mouth before Grimmjow enveloped Ulquiorra in his arms, sealing their lips.

"About damn time!" Grimmjow whispered against Ulquiorra's ear. He'd waited years to hear those words, years to be surrounded by friends and family, declaring their love. With Ulquiorra in his arms, the wait was worth it. After they moved to Tokyo, Ulquiorra applied for a business vista in order to work at the branch of the family business in Bangkok. They'd spent three years in Thailand and finally applied for citizenship. While Ulquiorra ran the business, Grimmjow put the skills he'd learned while in the yakuza to use and made a name for himself as a wrestler.

Their union had been long in the making, not only those three years. Grimmjow had been searching for someone like Ulquiorra all his life.

The ocean roared behind them but couldn't drown out the rigorous applause of the quaint yet passionate gathering. Grimmjow couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he looked into Ulquiorra's eyes, the color of golden dew on emerald grass at sunset.

He was married, something he never in a thousand years could have envisioned. He'd thought for sure years of heartbreak had broken him, but every tender touch and kiss from Ulquiorra had made him whole.

As all these exuberant emotions overcame him, Grimmjow lunged and hoisted Ulquiorra off his feet and carried him into the reception. As Grimmjow set his petite husband down, Ulquiorra adjusted his suit, red around the ears.

"Relax, you look sexy as hell."

"Don't strain your back. Aren't you still sore from your match?"

Grimmjow snorted. "Like a little beating's gonna stop me. Besides, did you see the other guy?"

"Ulquiorra-kun!" Orihime swept Ulquiorra into her arms. "Congratulations!"

"Here's to you guys!" Ichigo, her fiancé, carried over two glasses of champagne. He and Orihime toasted them.

"Ulquiorra!" Ulquiorra's mother rushed over to embrace him.

"Thank you for coming," Ulquiorra said, holding her tight.

"You both look so handsome!" She dabbed at her teary eyes and Grimmjow bent over so she could kiss his cheek and hug him. Ulquiorra had definitely inherited her small stature. He always felt like a giant around both of them.

"Yo, Grimmy-boy!" D-Roy came running, practically jumping on Grimmjow. "Congrats, my man!"

"Our stray is all grown up!" Elforte sighed, crushing Grimmjow against his chest.

Grimmjow sputtered, waving them off. "You guys . . ."

After Nnoitra's death, the Gilga-gumi had disbanded and its members scattered to the winds. Grimmjow hadn't seen Elforte or D-Roy since then.

"Good to see you lot." Grimmjow clapped them both on the shoulders. Smiling was suddenly a struggle. It was strange to not see Shawlong among them. D-Roy's face fell, as if he were thinking the same. "Damn. Knew seeing you again would be hard without him." D-Roy scrubbed at his eyes. "Can't believe it's really been three years since he . . ."

Elforte squeezed Grimmjow's shoulder. "He would be proud of you."

Grimmjow hoped so. They toasted Shawlong's memory with glasses of champagne. "To the old man," Grimmjow said, and despite the tightness in his throat, he downed the champagne. The others echoed the sentiment. "So, what are you crazy bastards up to?"

"I decided I was done with the yakuza. I'm working in Kyoto as a hairdresser. I did my own hair just for your wedding, you like it?" Elforte flipped a lock of radiant gold hair. "You should have let me do yours! Must say, the blue is becoming of you."

"Like hell. No one touches my hair, 'cept me." Grimmjow was too proud of his tousled 'do. "D-Roy, what are you up to?"

"I thought I'd go back and finish college."

Elforte and Grimmjow squinted at him. D-Roy cracked a grin. "Yeah. You guys know me too well. Fuck college. I fell in with another yakuza gang in Osaka. What can I say, I like the thrill too much to quit for good."

"Grimmjow!"

Grimmjow's breath hitched as he caught sight of them. His mother and father waved at him from by the bay windows where they sipped champagne. Smiling so hard his face hurt, Grimmjow went to them and let them each embrace him. He couldn't believe it, still. He thought he'd never see his parents so happy at his wedding to another man.

"I can't believe it!" his mother's sapphire eyes gleamed with tears. She patted his cheek. "You look so handsome, so grown up."

Grimmjow gave her a squeeze. "You're a knockout yourself, Ma."

She excused herself to greet Ulquiorra and his mother. His father clapped him on the shoulder. "I still remember the day your mother and I got married." He handed Grimmjow a glass of champagne. His father took a sip, staring out over the ocean. "We were both so happy. The kind of happiness I wanted for my own son. It's any parent's dream that their child will make the right decisions in life, whatever that might be that brings them happiness."

"I am happy, Pops."

His father's met his gaze with a twinkle in his eye. "Then that's all I could ever ask for. That you're happy, no matter who you're with."

Grimmjow looked away, willing himself not to get emotional in front of his dad. He never thought he'd hear his father accept the happiness he'd found.

"He's good for you, kiddo. So don't screw it up."

Grimmjow bristled. "Like hell."

His father chuckled and slapped him on the back. Grimmjow grinned.

"Mr. Jaegerjaquez," Ulquiorra said, giving a bow.

"Get up, kid." His father wrenched Ulquiorra into a back-breaking hug. "You watch out for my boy. Make sure he doesn't get up to no good."

"Of course," Ulquiorra said, his eyes alight with humor.

"I'm not a baby!" Grimmjow snapped.

"Grimmjow, the band wants to play a song for us." Ulquiorra extended a hand.

Grimmjow took his hand. "Hope you're ready to prove who's really king of the dance floor, Mr. Jaegerjaquez."

Ulquiorra squeezed his arm with a quiet huff of laughter. His eyes were full of tender joy when he met Grimmjow's gaze. "Always so competitive."

Grimmjow grasped his hand and guided it to his shoulder as he assumed the leading stance in their waltz. "You know you love it."

Ulquiorra's arm wound around his shoulder and pulled him close. Their foreheads touched and they swayed together as the band began a jazz rendition of "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore."

"I do." Ulquiorra's confession, meant for his ears alone, brought a smile to Grimmjow's face. He enveloped Ulquiorra in his arms, face nestled in his shoulder. Ulquiorra laughed softly, fingers drifting through his hair.

The lost souls they'd once been, wandering alone and cold, were nothing but distant memories. They'd found shelter in one another's arms.


End file.
